


The way you know me

by mrbrighteyes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry Styles, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Football Player Liam, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Niall Horan & Liam Payne Friendship, Past Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrbrighteyes/pseuds/mrbrighteyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It downs on him only ten minutes or so after, what he just found out, and he looks up at the ceiling, what he can see of it with the lights off. There’s a soft sound that leaves him, it sounds a little bewildered and Liam rolls to bury his face in his pillow. </p><p>Christ, he’s in love with Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bunch of fluff, some angst here and there, lots of analysing of feels and Liam not being able to can because of Harry, that's the whole fic, that's it. It was inspired by the song Hate that I love you.
> 
> It took me months seriously and has three parts, currently getting around to finishing the second one. Beta-ed by a friend, if you find any remaining mistakes they're mine so feel free to let me know. Will stop rambling now!

He’s probably been running the words and how to voice them over and over again in his head by the time the door opens. Liam forgets them all at that moment though. He means not to come off too strong too, rude, or even remotely angry, but he’s angry, he is. It must show because Harry’s smile flatters when he looks in his direction and _good_ he thinks, because that’s how this should be right now.

Liam’s not pleased, he really isn’t and Harry should know.

Why should he hide it?

But still he doesn’t mean to actually look the way he does. Not if it makes Harry frown harder and cautiously take his shoes off but not step inside. Waiting there instead of walking in and sliding his hands in his pockets with a shrug of his shoulders waiting for Liam to say something.

Liam knows he should, he wants to say something, _start from the beginning_ his brain tells him but looking at Harry just makes him angrier so he has to look away for a second, almost rolling his eyes. He feels childish, and he hates it because he’s always the mature one in this, what they are. But here he is, sulking, because Harry missed it, he promised he’d be there but he probably forgot.

There’s another feeling settling in now, disappointment, it replaces his anger so quickly that he can only heave a sigh. He doesn’t even realise that Harry got closer. That his steps are shuffling on the floor and his presence is nearing where Liam is sitting on the couch, cross-legged and just dejected, shoulders slumped.

“Did I forget something?” Harry speaks first and yeah, no.

See Liam was the one supposed to say something first, Liam’s the angry one here, he’s the sulking one for god sakes.

It seems that everything that he planned wasn’t going to go as he wished. He resigns himself with another sigh, shrugging and shuffling at the other end of the couch when Harry settles on the arm close to where he was sitting. He doesn’t think physical contact is a good idea right now, Christ he feels really out of sorts.

He wants to shout but doesn’t feel like it, he wants to not feel so bad about this, and he hates that he does but damn it he can’t help it.

“Yeah, yeah, you totally did, but nothing new here, you always kind of do?”

See? See, he doesn’t meant for it to sound so cutting, he immediately worries his bottom lip soon as his words are out though and he wants to take a look at Harry to make sure he isn’t wearing that expression he has when he gets scolded. But this isn’t fair at all. They planned this. It was important, for Liam at least, so if Harry forgot and even missed it then what is that supposed to mean?

That Harry doesn’t care obviously. There goes the slump in Liam’s shoulders again and the anger slipping closer to another feeling that almost has Liam’s eyes stinging and he doesn’t want that. This is Harry’s way, this is how Harry reacts when he’s frustrated, and it’s stinging that Harry doesn’t say anything, only settles comfortably on the couch but keeps silent.

Liam’s made it hard, he knows it the moment he hears incessant squirming and feels it. It unnerves him sometimes, when Harry’s cornered, he grows silent and works his options. He thinks about them a bit too hard and Liam hates that he’s doing it right now. It’s them and Harry shouldn’t have to do that. Or is that also too much to ask from him, are they not there yet?

It makes Liam look this time. He feels a bit calmer, a bit less upset—still upset, but he doesn’t like it when Harry gets that way so he glances and catches Harry looking at him. Knowing he’s right about Harry’s feeling without even having to look at him settles a weight in his chest that he refuses to acknowledge because he’s still a bit stung and he wants answers.

“Say something?” Liam almost pleads, he sees Harry resisting to roll his eyes.

“I don’t know, what did I miss?”

If it was another situation, for example something much lighter, like maybe when he couldn’t make it one time, but it was just Liam and Niall that had been there. Niall understands, Liam does too. If it was just that Liam would have been smiling by now since Harry’s always busy and forgets easily. If there’s one thing Harry hates more than anything it’s not knowing why he’s in the wrong. Because he doesn’t like being in the wrong. Like a kid, why is he in the wrong? If he could avoid troubles all his life he probably would be the happiest.

He almost smiles, Liam almost smiles and Christ no, it’s not happening, he’s not making Harry see that he can get away with it.

“Well you know what, it seems that I was the only one really worried about this although we talked about it for days and planned it,” he points to his chest then back at Harry, back and forth, eyebrows shooting up, emphasizing his point, feeling exasperated at this point “Together.”

Harry still looks lost, even more now and Liam throws his arms up before getting ready to explain.

“Dinner Harry, with everyone, family, friends, we waited—I waited!”

Liam hates raising his voice, he hates being angry with Harry and he really, really hates arguing with Harry because most of the times Harry doesn’t even know how to handle arguments. It’s frustrating. So they installed a system, if they have something to say to each other that will hurt the other feelings they text it.

But tonight, it didn’t matter how many texts Liam sent he still had some words he wanted to get out.

“Oh.” That’s all he gets as an answer, but at least now Harry knows what they’re talking about, hopefully. There comes the almost smile too, because this is so Harry. Liam straightens, then stands up and sits on the arm of the couch, gives his back to Harry, it gets much easier to square his shoulders and not give in.

There’s another reason he hates being mad at Harry, it being that it’s so hard to stay mad at Harry, how is he supposed to ever get a point across if he can’t stay mad?

Why is he mad again? It all seems so futile and he wants to let it go, he suddenly just wants to wave it all away and slide in Harry’s space, ask him where he was because Liam was worried more than angry he was worried and upset not knowing where Harry was. All the paparazzi would probably know about this and post it tomorrow but Liam still doesn’t, still is in the shadow, it doesn’t sit well with him at all.

He feels upset again just like that, for not knowing even such a simple thing.

“Do you not want this, do you just,” he feels childish just blurting that out.

He doesn’t want to go on but apparently what his brain thinks and what he wants aren’t on board tonight so he turns and takes a good look at Harry, except this time Harry’s waiting, like he’s getting ready to be the angry one here. Which is unfair, it makes Liam let the rest of his sentence out, “--are you scared Harry?”

He knows the moment it’s out that he hit it right. He got it right and suddenly everything feels really still and bitter because of all reasons it has to be that one. It makes Liam fidget, thumb in his mouth before he notices it and biting his nail off. A habit he thought he lost but apparently not.

“You said you wanted to do this as much as I did, you said that, you told me you would.”

He doesn’t mean to go on, but Harry isn’t speaking and Liam feels like he’s just pulled on a grenade and he’s waiting for it to explode so he’s sitting there, squirming, waiting, now he’s the one waiting for Harry to say something with that set line his eyebrows are making. It looks ugly.

It doesn’t look good, not at all, although maybe it does just a little. Liam hasn’t seen Harry in two days, he’s allowed to want to look a bit more than necessary for someone who’s mad and worried now.

Worried he might have said too much.

He’s missed Harry, yeah he has, but he doesn’t want to just go with this if it’s not going to work. If it’s not going to work, if Harry doesn’t deny it, if he just—does what he’s doing right now. Standing up and rolling his eyes properly now, like Liam’s being ridiculous.

Liam accepts it sometimes, that he’s ridiculous because he worries a lot and it took him a lot to let this happen. But he isn’t tonight, not right now, because he knows when Harry’s trying to avoid the truth to when Harry genuinely thinks this isn’t up for discussion and right now he’s clearly avoiding talking about this.

“I do alright, I want to, I’m not—” he pauses like he can’t say the word and his eyes are shifting from Liam’s attention now totally on Harry standing there, now the one fidgeting.

“I’m not, I’m not having this conversation, sounds like rerun all over, every time.” He looks upset, he looks downright upset and for a second, a really tiny one Liam feels bad—he actually feels bad for more than that but he can’t let that show. Except he probably does without meaning to, because he forgets it sometimes but Harry knows him too.

Liam lowers his gaze, ducks low when Harry’s expression softens he doesn’t want it to show, doesn’t mean to show it. But Harry avoiding this, it makes him feel bitter. He’s been through this before, not with Harry, and he just doesn’t want a replay of what he thought he left behind.

“Well maybe we can stop having this conversation then, you could also stop doing this, what this is to you, because apparently it’s not important enough to even talk about it.” There goes the words he didn’t want to blurt, because Liam’s got this thing. When they fight, Liam has this way of saying everything he thinks and sometimes regretting them because they always hit home.

“If it’s not that important and you don’t want to talk about it I suggest you just quit it right now, right there, I’m not putting up with this.” He finishes in a  quick breath in, he’s feeling worn out and all he’s done is sit and frown and watch Harry look surprised, then hurt then shut off completely. It doesn’t matter Liam tells himself, doesn’t matter, he’s done with this.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard because Harry makes everything so easy most of the times. Then Liam looks up just in time to see that Harry’s steps aren’t nearing but walking away and his back’s the only thing Liam sees before the door closes—no slams and it startles him even if he sees it coming.

He really hates himself right now, he hates the way he handles arguments and his feelings and how he knows how to upset Harry, how he uses it. He knows exactly what to do to get Harry riled up, he knows it, and he knows he hates doing it. But sometimes, he just wants Harry to say something, he wants Harry to talk about it.

He wants them to sit and know what they are to each other, he wants Harry to trust him.

### 

Liam wants to let it be as it is, wants to let it go. But it irks him and he feels restless. He doesn’t appreciate the feeling. His nails that were starting to like the lack of attention he paid to them probably don’t either. It worries him, that he’s worried. It worries him and bothers him but he paces and waits, falls on the couch gets up then paces again, it’s a vicious cycle.

He shouldn’t be worried.

But it’s raining now, it’s been hours and Harry walked out without an umbrella. He shouldn’t care about that, in fact he doesn’t. He doesn’t and he really is fucking angry at himself, cussing isn’t something he’s used to but with Harry around it is hard not to. It’s hard to not do anything with Harry not there.

It’s a weight that makes him whine, why did he say all of that? He could have just let it go, like he always did. Except this is new, them actually getting to the point where one of them has to walk away is new and Liam did this. He fucking went and did it.

Another _fuck_ , more pacing, with his hands in his hair that’s starting to grow.

He feels himself giving in before he even does it. It’s this feeling that Harry’s just there and not there and Liam’s done this, he’s done this to Harry. Something he is suddenly not so proud of. Harry isn’t easy on himself first of, he really isn’t, he just takes everything to heart so easily. He doesn’t show it, but takes everything and worries over it, works over it, tries to make it slide, swallow when it’s too heavy for him and Liam knows this.

He knows this better than anyone else.

Still he feels weak, to just give in like that, he despises the feeling he gets when his fingers find his phone and he’s typing, he’s texting Harry. Not apologising though, he won’t apologise because the words he has said, he thinks them, he still thinks them. But if Harry doesn’t want to talk about it, Liam doesn’t mind, not right now. Long as he just comes back, and maybe some other time, but Liam needs to tell him that it’s alright that he understands.

Because Christ he does? He understands so well, without even knowing how or why he just does and his heart swells, gets heavier with each texts that Harry simply doesn’t answer to.

He’s gone and done it.

###

He wastes time. Does other things, turns the telly on but can’t focus so he ends up biting his nails again. He tries to eat something but who is he kidding, nothing will pass. Then he heads to the bedroom, thinks of taking a shower but he can’t. Not right now. Instead he grabs a blanket a pillow and heads back to the living room where he settles on the couch again.

He’s lost count of how many texts he sent. Lost count of how many hours have passed, the rain hasn’t stopped too. He’s tired though, just a quick nap. Maybe when he wakes up, it’ll be a dream. It could be. It’s not he thinks to himself, buries his face in the pillow and lets out a soft groan. He stills for a moment because he grabbed Harry’s pillow and feels miserable as well as relaxed.

Harry’s probably not going to come back, Liam wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t, but it’ll hurt. He doesn’t want to think about it, his eyelids are heavy but sleep isn’t easy to catch. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to, he repeats it, like a mantra inside. He waits for his breath to calm down and as well as the raindrops against the window, ruthless. It’s pouring now.

###

Liam’s not sure how many hours have passed by the time he wakes up. He doesn’t wake up though, someone wakes him up, something. A touch to his shoulder, a shake, light, so light it’s a wonder he wakes up. He doesn’t entirely wake up, just stirs and barely blinks his eyes open. He doesn’t feel like actually putting in the effort of opening his eyes until he remembers what happened and he’s suddenly aware of everything.

There’s relief settling in first, because Harry’s there, looking sorry, he looks guilty and relaxed, refreshed and damp but Liam’s sure it’s not from the rain. He’d be more wet if it was from the rain. He looks like he just took a shower. Because he has a different set of clothes on and his hair isn’t pushed back as he always keeps it lately.

The only thing that registers after relief is the aftermath of being sick worried only for Harry to come back, shower and act like everything’s alright without any words—it’s also called anger and Liam jolts right up when it slides in.

“Where were you?” Liam means it to be biting this time, he wants his tone to be dry but it’s hoarse from just being awoken and he’s frowning at himself because he’s still sleepy, still a little tired. It feels like a rerun, a word Harry used he realises with a snicker, a quiet one, barely audible.

Liam recoils because Harry’s hand is reaching for him and he regrets the gesture as soon as he does it because Harry looks like it struck him. Good, Liam thinks, good.

“I was worried alright, you can’t just walk out in the rain like that, you can’t just walk out on me like that, sometimes you have to talk, you have to—” The sting’s stronger, biting, there and Liam swallows because this time Harry’s hands do settle and they don’t get any sort of rejection. He’s too tired to fight so he lets Harry pull him in, closer until he’s tight and pressed close to Harry’s side.

“M’sorry.”

Maybe that’s all Liam really wanted from all of this. Harry doesn’t need to say much after that, it’s just there and his voice isn’t better at the not shaking thing Liam notices too. Because he notices everything and it doesn’t matter if they’re bad things or not, he sort of likes noticing things about Harry.

“I know, am too.” There’s a tug to his lips, a smile that he doesn’t hide this time. He straightens though and gets a hand in Harry’s hair, still damp, clinging to his fingers when he means to ruffle it.

“We can—we can, like not talk about any of it ever again.” Liam suggests, wondering how much of Harry’s attention he’s lost to his fingers stroking his scalp when Harry’s eyes shut close and he leans into the touch.

“No,” Harry shakes his head, keeps his eyes closed.

He looks content enough like that so Liam doesn’t bother him about it. He likes it better this way. Harry taking his time to think his words over isn’t always such a bad thing. Alright most of the times it is because Liam’s been taught to just be honest with his feelings and Harry’s just—always trying to please with his words and it’s not necessary.

“No, we need to, let’s talk.”

It’s Liam’s turn to shake his head because this does not look like a Harry who wants to talk, he almost rolls his eyes when Harry smiles. It’s lazy and quiet how he also leans in and bumps his nose to Liam’s, like he knows where to find everything he wants to find on Liam’s face, or body—his hands under Liam’s shirt pressing against his skin almost reassuringly.

Liam thinks he hears Harry mumbles “ _am scared_ ”, but it’s lost against his mouth and he’s happy it is.

Liam is too, of many things, especially of Harry so it goes both way he feels like saying and lets it out, mouths glued to Harry’s and grin matching his when Harry catches the words and then he’s falling forward. Liam groans with the weight of Harry on his body, his laughter dying a little hands scrambling for Harry’s face, pushing his hair back so he can take a look at Harry’s face.

“Are you not going to cut it?” He asks, because it’s grown, so much that it fills Liam’s hands easily. Flush and thick against his palms.

Harry just shakes his head and what Liam’s caught in his hands move along with the movement, that’s how much hair Harry currently has. There’s no answer to his question either, Harry’s head falling on his chest and it’s quiet.

Liam’s hands slides out of his hair, but only so his arms can sling around Harry’s shoulders and he squeezes just the tiniest bit. It’s been a tiring week, it always is a tiring week for Harry though, nothing new.  Working on a new project or not it’s always a busy life.

###

Liam’s life is just as busy the following months and it doesn’t quiet down not even for an entire day. So it’s easy for him to forget things as well. They don’t argue much after that. Maybe because Liam’s out training more than he is at his flat and Harry only drops by when Liam’s there. They don’t live together, which was a mutual choice because the scandal it would cause wouldn’t help at all.

Liam likes it that way though, he’s the one who suggested they work that way and so far it’s been good. Not that he doesn’t want the world to know that Harry’s his and he’s Harry’s but there’s just--it’s how it works right now and he isn’t sure the world he lives in is ready for that. He’s not ashamed of who he is either, but he’s had experiences in the sports field with views on homosexuality that destroyed what he had in the beginning.

Before he met Harry, he’d been ready to let it out, let the world know and it cost him more than he thought it would. He hasn’t told Harry, in fact he hasn’t told anyone. Not even his family know what happened during that period just that it had been a path straight down until that night. They thought they lost him and truth be told he thought he lost himself as well.

He doesn’t like thinking about it, mostly because he hasn’t healed. He’s still bitter about it and he prefers to keep it a secret now because there’s no other choice, there just isn’t. He hasn’t thought about the possibility ever since, and he thinks about it less and less as scandals about a certain player being bullied out of a field spreads around the world like fire.

It hasn’t been an easy week, or month and he’s weary, exhausted even when he finally gets to his place. It’s been what? Two weeks? Maybe more since he’s been home. The lights are on and he knows he won’t catch a break before the league starts. He also know that this month has another training session with the team and in order for them to be ready they’ve got a training camp that’s starting next week.

He doesn’t think about it though, not now. What he wants right now is his bed, a shower then his bed, he rectifies and means to do just that. He toes his shoes off and he is already dropping his bag off his shoulder to let it fall on the couch when he realises that right, the lights were on. It means only one thing, someone’s inside and aside from his family who aren’t in London, only Harry has the keys to his flat.

Liam feels himself relax because a shower and a bath is what he needs, but he’ll lie if he says that Harry isn’t also part of the combo. He means to call out, to see if he’s got it right but he hears footsteps before he even has to and a slow grin on his face he waves a hand but already makes almost a beeline to where Harry’s standing.

It all happens really quickly and really softly. He’s got his arms around Harry’s and it’s really the best thing that’s happened this whole week. Feels like the world’s weight is falling off his shoulders, always feels like that when Harry holds him like that, tight and there, present and it’s warm, he could fall asleep like that, standing just like this but then Harry pulls back so he’s got to let go. He doesn’t really want to though, so he doesn’t.

He hears Harry’s laugh, as if mocking him, but he doesn’t really care, why should he when Harry gives in and lets Liam cling to him because it’s a first somehow, Liam rarely ever does it. Harry’s the one who usually clings and refuses to let go, it’s a nice feeling, Liam understands why he does it now.

“Hey superstar.”

There’s a snicker that follows that, Liam shakes his head now pulling back completely. He runs a hand in his hair, wondering if he should think about cutting it, or keep it as it is. The temptation to just do as Harry is great, but he’s grown used to having it short, it makes it easier to take care of.

“You’re the superstar,” He tells Harry with a hand pushing at Harry’s chest to make him move, “Need a shower.” He explains when Harry stumbles a bit and reaches for Liam when he walks past him, slides an arm around his body to pull him against his chest.

“You’re my superstar.” It’s a retaliation that has Liam groaning softly and faking a shudder as Harry kisses his cheek. It’s not much of a kiss than Harry’s mouth pressing against his cheek and stilling there, smiling like he thinks he’s done a good job.

“You obviously need to disown Zayn as a friend or something, he’s turning you into a monster.”

Harry laughs and Liam does too, though it’s just a breath and that shower, he really needs it, he feels sticky where Harry’s hand are touching him under his shirt. Liam grips his wrists and makes him let go.

“Really need a shower, mate.” He says once again.

He has to wrestle out of Harry’s grip, that’s grown firmer than Liam’s remembering it. He tries to tickle Harry and make a run for it and it works, almost, seems to until Harry stops laughing and turns serious looks at Liam like he’s ready to take it up a level higher and Liam. Well, Liam has a thing for when Harry stops looking soft and young and just looks at Liam like he knows what he’s doing, knows what will have Liam’s breath caught in just a second and knows where to push so Liam will give in, make him beg and writhe.

Harry hasn’t done anything and Liam’s already flushing with the images, it’s a bit embarrassing—more than a bit and he lets out a shaky laugh because they haven’t done anything for a good minute before Harry’s expression breaks back to his usual self and he lets Liam go with a grin pressed to Liam’s parted lips.

“Hurry, brought dinner.” Harry mouths, steals another kiss that Liam lets linger. He’s still a little taken aback by how Harry does that but Harry helps him turn around and push him inside the bedroom and it’s easier to find the function of his legs back once he shakes his head.  

###

The shower clears his mind just as much as he needs it. He walks up to Harry, sitting against the leg of the couch with a smile a hand reaching out, expects Harry to either let him slot in between his legs or grab his hand but none of it happens.

Liam stares for a bit, mouth curving a bit with his eyebrows arching up in a question that must be drawn on his face now. Harry’s eyebrows furrow and then he’s holding a piece of paper that Liam doesn’t recognize at first. He has to take a step closer to see what it is and once he does, he blinks a little and tries to think of a reason why it has Harry frowning.

“Fell out of your bag.” That’s all Harry gives as an explanation.

“It’s just for another two weeks.” Liam tells him then, now frowning as well, “I told you, didn’t I?”

“You mentioned it, but you didn’t mention this.” Harry says and holds it out, points a section of the paper that Liam knows by heart because he stared at it for the longest and thought about it for the longest before checking the box that said no.

“I just,” He shrugs, heat rushing to his face, neck hot when he touches his hand to the back of it, tongue darting out quickly against his lips, throat dry, “I don’t think it will be a good idea, what’s with your own schedules and you’d probably be bored to death there, come on Harry, it’s not that big of a deal.”

It isn’t right? It would be a bad idea, it would. Bringing Harry along as a partner, or as a friend, could work. But Liam doesn’t trust himself to not accidentally reach across and give out that they’re more than that if he has Harry with him 24/7 for two whole weeks in front of his teammates and everyone else. It just wouldn’t work.

“You didn’t mention it, s’ all.” Harry finally says after what feels like an eternity and Liam, he doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Did you want to come?”

Harry looks up at him like that’s not a question to ask. Liam wouldn’t know and yeah of course if he asked Harry, chances were Harry would have said yes. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell him about it. He didn’t think about it that far then, he had to fill it in and hand it in quickly so their coach could sign it. It was such a quick thing and it was during a month where Harry was also busy with interviews since his new movie was getting a lot of attention and well, they had times where they drifted apart and didn’t talk for days on.

Harry doesn’t answer though, it’s the most awkward eye contact they ever had and Harry just doesn’t answer. He keeps it up until Liam has to look away, feeling bad but a little angry because he just doesn’t see the problem, it’s his choice as much as it is Harry’s but it’s his career as well and Harry should know better than anyone else. His career is important to him.

“Anyway it’s already done.” Liam throws his arms in the air and reaches for the piece of paper that’s managed to ruin a night he thought would make this whole week better. Go figure, something always had to go wrong.

He’s putting it back in his bag, where it should have been to begin with and not in the pocket where it fell out of. He hears more than see Harry moving around but doesn’t look up until he hears his voice as well.

“I should go.”

Liam, well Liam doesn’t know what to do or say to that. This is his place so he probably should expect that Harry’s the one who leaves when he’s angry or upset or doesn’t want to be near Liam because of silly, silly stuff like this. But well it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t upset him too that Harry just always leaves as always. Doesn’t give a second chance or let Liam actually try to make it better, because he wants to.

He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing even more, he doesn’t want Harry to just leave like that. Not when tomorrow he’s going to pack and leave for another two weeks knowing that Harry’s cross with him and not knowing if he can fix it. How come a piece of paper manages to do all of that in just a few seconds?

“Do you have to?” Liam almost reaches, but ends up tucking his hands in his pockets to not do exactly that because Harry’s closing in on himself.

“Yeah, yeah I have to.” Harry turns, pulling his jacket on and he’s heading to the door but then he turns like he’s thought this over and Liam hopes for a moment that he’s going to call it off, stay, let Liam be selfish and just stay.

“You know Li, you’re the one who said we had to work on this together, you and me, no secrets and tell each other if something’s wrong.” Harry has a hand in the air pointing back and forth and he looks more hurt than anything and yeah, alright that gets to Liam. He said that. Harry’s right, he should have said something, mentioned it, and talked about it with Harry because it concerns them both.

“You can’t say that and then do something else—” and Liam, he desperately wants to make it okay again, he doesn’t like this, so he interrupts Harry, takes a step forward and he just, tries.

“I know, I should have, I don’t know why I just, I thought, if you said you wanted to come, if you--” He stops and heaves a sigh and this is just the worst he’s ever done.

He can’t even tell Harry that he would have thought twice before saying no, because no he didn’t want Harry to be there, but why even?

“It doesn’t matter now does it?” Harry shrugs then and he’s giving his back to Liam, lets that sit between them. It’s just a few steps and Liam feels like he’s not allowed to take them, to close it, he feels the distance heavy on his mind as the door close. It doesn’t slam, it’s really slow the way it closes as if Harry hesitated, like he didn’t want to do it, but then he’s gone.

As soon as it’s done Liam lets out a groan a small laugh that’s dry and stuck in his throat before he’s scrambling for his phone.

[ text: _It realy pisses me off wen u leave like that, ur a fucking twat_. ]

He feels bad the moment he hits the send button but he’s already done it. Harry’s not going to reply, no he’s just going to give Liam another silent treatment; that he hates more than anything else Harry does. He’s also pretty sure Harry’s doing it knowing that Liam hates it. For once, Liam wishes he could actually run after Harry outside, but he can’t do that either because he’s in love with a man that cameras love to catch into relationships and any scandals they can find.

That’s his life, and it sucks. He resigns himself and goes to see what Harry brought, thinks maybe he could get something to eat. The smell of fried chicken hits his nose and it’s all it takes for him to know he doesn’t want to, not yet, his stomach gives this little lurch and he turns back on his heels, heads to the bedroom instead.

It downs on him only ten minutes or so after, what he just found out, and he looks up at the ceiling, what he can see of it with the lights off. There’s a soft sound that leaves him, it sounds a little bewildered and Liam rolls to bury his face in his pillow.

Christ, he’s in love with Harry.

###

“You didn’t know that?” The voice sounds more than a little surprised, even more amused if anything but that’s because Niall always sounds amused when he’s not seriously mad and Niall’s rarely mad but when he is, it’s hard to not be scared of him.

Something about people who seem to find joy in everything being the scariest people on earth when you get on their bad sides. Something Liam never would have believed if he hadn’t angered Niall once and regretted until he was forgiven and even then, after that, it sort of became a topic they could never talk about, it was still bitter and sore.

“Is it that obvious?” Liam asks back, seriously, he only, well yes he loves Harry, he knew that, knows that. But there’s a clear difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. He also had to go and figure it out after ruining things once again. It makes him curse again and hastily pull his shirt down.

“Mate, it’s a wonder how Harry puts up with you.” Niall’s still laughing at Liam and it makes it seem less serious although it is, it’s really serious and sort of dangerous because Liam’s never been in love. He’s heard, seen it, still sees it with his parents. But this, feeling it is different, it’s different and he’s not sure how to handle it.

What he does know is that he should focus now. Harry hasn’t called or texted, and they haven’t talked ever since that argument. It would feel like any other fights they’ve had if it wasn’t for the fact that Liam just figured this one little problem—it’s not really a problem, but it isn’t that good either if Harry ends up never coming back.

There’s a pang and for a second Liam freezes. He comes back to himself with Niall’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him back to reality, a worried frown now on his face when Liam blinks up at him.

“We need to head out now, you know how coach gets when we take all our time like little princesses.” He’s snickering but still looking worried and there’s just Niall that can pull that off really. Liam flashes a small smile.

“It’ll be fine, you two, I don’t know how, but you do it, you’ve been doing it for close to a year and you just work.” Niall shrugs, a hand in Liam’s hair, ruffling as Liam ducks his head and swallows. True, it’s true and he hopes Niall’s saying the truth, that Harry will come back, that this isn’t going to be the end. It can’t be, he has to make this right as soon as training is off. He has to get Harry on the side and tell him at least, Liam forgets it sometimes but words, they do a lot of work.

He only ever remembers it when he has to tell Harry off, or put them back on the right track. But if he’d told Harry he was in love with him before maybe these kind of misunderstandings wouldn’t come in. Maybe Harry wouldn’t think Liam’s ashamed of him, doesn’t want them, or doesn’t want Harry even, ridiculous, it’s ridiculous and he’s going to fix it.

Niall pulls him up and he stumbles forward, laughing a bit, feeling shaky but there. More resolute than a week ago at least as he leans in, slings an arm around Niall’s shoulders and purposely puts all of his weight on him, until Niall bends with a laugh and almost runs into the door. Liam laughs again, less shaky and it’s there, he definitely knows what he has to do now.

It settles in his heart and once he catches on and acknowledges it with less surprise it’s less heavy, scarier, though Liam’s always loved it, fear, sometimes always made things feel right.

###

There isn’t a limit to how far he has to go. Liam’s legs are even faster than his mind, he likes running because he doesn’t think, he just runs and there’s nothing else but this right now. Sweat doesn’t have the time to feel cold against his skin. It’s sliding down his spine and each sides of his face, he has to close his eyes so it doesn’t get in.

He presses his lips around a drop that’s stuck on his upper lip, taking a deep breath and relishing in the way his lungs burn a little more when he does so. The field is endless and he’s got two more rounds to make before getting to his set goal. He couldn’t sleep, kept rolling in his bed until Niall threw a pillow at him and told him to stay still because he was trying to sleep.

Then Liam figured he might as well do what he does best, it calms him. His heart rate picks up and he aches everywhere at the end of it, but he’s good at this at least, he can do this without failing or giving up or making a mistake. It’s easy to move along to his own rhythm, his own pace. The music playing in his ear doesn’t bother it. There’s no pause, just a regular beat.

He can close his eyes and know where to turn because they are always given two days to learn everything about the field before they can play on it. Something their coach makes them do because he says if you know the field, it becomes easier to win, easier to know your limits—limits he wants them to overcome if they find any—always make yourself better and when you think you’re better, get better than what you think is better for you.

Run and never stop, not even if you’ve overcome the limit. Go over it, go beyond it and don’t stop, don’t even think about stopping.

That’s what Liam does. He goes and runs so that when he tries to think it vanishes away. He doesn’t like that he has to do this to stop thinking, he usually likes to jog quietly, without wanting to chase any thoughts away. But some situations require it and he has to do compromises, they aren’t his favourite thing in the world, but he does with it.

He’s coming close to the end and it makes him speed up, pick up the pace, makes him ache for more.

He’s so focused on that for the next few minutes it takes him to get to the middle, that when he blinks his eyes open and feels a touch to his back he startles. It’s not a small jolt, he lets out a sound that he’s grateful he doesn’t hear and his heart skips a beat entirely, his arm going back and he hits something without meaning to.

Liam has to put a halt to his run though and he’s not the happiest about it, but there’s also the fact that he just elbowed the hell out of whoever just tried to stop him, which was a stupid thing to do, it always is a stupid thing to do. No one ever tries to stop him when they know he’s doing his rounds, he has to get them right, all of them before he can stop, this is a serious matter.

There’s a scowl on his face until he turns around and his eyes fall on someone he really didn’t expect to see. Ever. Or maybe not before this training camp ended at least.

The, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Dies a little in his throat with each word coming out because Harry’s straightening and standing there in front of him. Liam almost blames it on how empty his mind is right now, exactly like he wanted it to be, like the run’s supposed to make it but then Harry just ruins it.

He’s standing there a hand against his cheek, looking half pained and apologetic but with a smile that looks amused, because Harry can pull that off, he can pull looking ridiculous but also like the only thing Liam wants to see right now all at the same time.

Liam means to check that he’s alright, pulling Harry’s hand away and check it for himself but then he doesn’t really control his mind anymore, not when it’s this blank on what to do and waiting for him to fill in again with more things to think about so he doesn’t think much about that. That he should see if Harry’s alright, what he does is nearly knock Harry out the way his arm didn’t do by smashing, literally, this is smashing. Except not really, but Harry lets out this huff like he feels it everywhere and Liam likes that, he wants Harry to feel it everywhere.

He can worry about the damage he’s caused to Harry’s face later, because he’s sure it’s going to bruise and show some colour later on. But right now he’s laughing, a little breathless because Harry’s got a hold on him too and it’s tight, tighter than Liam’s. He doesn’t have much strength left in his arms or body or legs though so he lets Harry take his weight and almost bodily give in. It would be nice, Liam wants to do that.

He also wants to say a lot of things, there are a lot of things he should be saying. ‘I missed you, I love you and I missed you, missed you’. All that comes out is another shaky laugh and then he’s just keeping it all in, he can’t say anything really, might as well just keep the silent so he does and Harry’s mumbling something against his shoulder where Liam can feel his nose and mouth, buried there.

It sounds a little breathless and Liam likes that he can do that to Harry. It sounds like the words that are stuck in his throat, but it doesn’t really matter right now, he doesn’t need to hear them. Harry tightens his hold. That matters more. That Liam can barely breathe and think his ribs might break but still return the squeeze; that too.

###

Liam can’t believe how much control he lost when it’s a bit quieter and he’s sitting in the changing room. He’s thankful that it’s dark and no one but him was outside right now, hopefully. Then he reprimands himself for thinking about that when Harry’s there wincing a bit as Liam presses a pack of ice against his cheek.

He winces too, clears his throat and worries his bottom lip. Harry’s giving him a reassuring smile, but it’s bruised, Christ it’s bruised and Liam isn’t even that sorry, he’s just sorry it’s painful, but he isn’t sorry he’s done that to Harry and it should be awful but it makes him crack a little, snort and bring a hand to his mouth.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I really am, but you know better than to do that.” Liam’s laughing by the time he gets through the end of that sentence and Harry pulling a face doesn’t help the matter really. He laughs until Harry rolls his eyes and he turns to face the locker in front of them, leaning against the ones behind them.

“You’re the worst boyfriend.” Harry mumbles, there’s a sigh that follows the statement. But the look he turns to Liam says otherwise. It’s so fond that Liam regrets seeing it for a moment, he always does. He doesn’t know what to do when Harry does that, looks at Liam like he’s everything. Liam feels like everything and it’s unsettling to feel that way, all of it, hitting him so hard he wants to shy away from it.

He doesn’t though, he might never get used to it, but he thinks Harry likes it when he doesn’t look away. If Harry knows how he looks at Liam or not, he’s never wondered really, just accepted, he just takes it as it is. He’s probably worse, because Harry’s smiling leaning in closer. Liam doesn’t even know how or when he moved, just that he did at some point and his nose bumps against Harry’s lightly. He lets out a soft chuckle, but Harry’s not smiling, or laughing, he’s searching for his mouth, kissing him and stopping Liam’s blooming laugh.

It’s short and quick, like Harry couldn’t resist, just a taste and it hangs there between them. Harry’s lips stretching shortly and that Liam kisses that. He breathes a little and likes how it’s steady, controlled, how he isn’t shaking when he lets a palm against Harry’s cheek, the one that doesn’t have an ice pack pressed to it, but then covers the other one with Harry’s hand on it as well and drops another kiss on Harry’s mouth still pulled in a lazy smile.

Liam kisses Harry’s upper lip after he licks his bottom one quickly, waiting still. His mouth moves to the corner where Harry’s mouth is stretched around a lopsided grin and it’s the most charming, his palm has an emptiness he knows is due to Harry’s dimple deepening his cheek. It’s a series of kisses that has him laughing a little, without any sound to it, just his breath there against Harry’s.

He has his eyes closed and misses some spot, ends up kissing his own wrist and Harry doesn’t open his eyes but moves his mouth to Liam’s wrist, like he knows what he’s doing. It isn’t quite fair, because Harry’s got his eyes closed but he knows, he’s sure and Liam’s just a bit of a mess. One palm that’s warm with Harry’s cheek flushed and the other one turning colder and colder until Liam pulls it away, wincing a bit.

He leans back in his position but Harry doesn’t let go, catches his wrist and drops his forehead against Liam’s shoulder.

“Missed you.” He says again and Liam hears it with the pressure Harry’s mouth puts against his shirt, he feels it against his skin where his sweat has dried and feels cold, Harry’s breath warm and he lets out a soft sigh.

He turns his head just so his lips can touch Harry’s forehead, thankful for the headband pushing his hair away when his mouth catches on Harry’s skin, mouths “Missed you too.”

He can say it now and it makes him feel better, gets rid of a weight he didn’t even realise he had and he slumps a little.

###

“We probably shouldn’t.” They totally shouldn’t be doing that, but Harry’s there, giggling—seriously, it feels like he’s drunk and if Liam didn’t know better he would think that too. But he knows Harry, he’s got his own set of moods like any humans, but Harry’s just, Harry and he’s got this one on where he does things like he’s drunk and people actually asked him in some interviews if he ever drank before coming over.

It’s funny and Liam makes it a joke, but it’s really lovely and he hates that the whole world knows what it looks like. Even if Harry’s got a Liam’s mood too, one no one ever sees but him and it doesn’t matter that it’s a normal thing, like a normal mood that anyone could have seen, he’s got a way to make it just for Liam.

Which is how Liam didn’t say no when Harry asked if he could stay, because the bad thing was Liam can’t say no to Harry when he uses it against him and he does a lot. Once he knows what works he uses it until it doesn’t anymore and in Liam’s case it is pure torture because it’s been close to a year—like Niall managed to remind him kindly yesterday and he still isn’t used to it. Truth be told he might not want to get used to it, it could be all in his head. It’s all in his head, he knows it but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it.

Might be that—the fact that he enjoys it and now that he knows why he does it’s going to be even harder to say no to Harry and this is going to be exhausting.

“We totally should.” Harry nods, voice muffled because he’s buried his face against Liam’s neck and it’s warm where he’s been kissing his way up to Liam’s jaw then going down, like he has no real purpose but to just kiss Liam’s skin where he finds his mouth lingering.

Liam’s giving in, he knows before he even does and pats a hand behind him, touches the door, tries to find where to slide the card he finally found. It takes a while, so he distracts himself though it’s just an automatic sort of gesture, his other hand slipping under Harry’s shirt and resting against his skin, palm opening against it, it’s warmer than he thought it would be. He forgets about opening the door when his fingers find Harry’s side and he squeezes lightly, a worried frown on his face, in the way his mouth curves.

“You lost weight,” Liam states then and feels Harry’s soft laugh against his skin, ticklish but Harry doesn’t say anything else, rests his forehead where his mouth had been pressing kisses onto Liam’s skin and Liam’s being serious here why is Harry not replying? “I feel bones Harry, actual bones I did not feel before—” Liam swallows around what he was going to say.

Silence settles in then and it’s a little heavy until Harry pulls back to look at him even though Liam won’t look up, he feels guilty, it hits him so hard he doesn’t even know if he can hold Harry’s gaze right now. Before he left is what he can’t seem to let out and it shouldn’t be a big deal because Harry’s here right now and it must mean he forgave Liam, forgives him, but Liam’s really realising what this means and he’s realising a lot more.

Harry’s lost weight and now that he’s looking because Harry’s calling his name the way he does it when he wants Liam to look at him—he’s well, he looks tired. Liam didn’t notice before, outside or in the changing room but he looks tired, exhausted, like he needs to sleep and then it dawns on him. Harry doesn’t sleep well without Liam around, which is why he’s always welcomed in Liam’s bed, which is why he practically lives in Liam’s flat because it helps him sleep and he said it once, confessed that looking a bit shy about it, looking like he was scared Liam would laugh at him.

Liam did too, laugh a little and Harry looked so upset by it he had to make it up to him for an entire week. But now, he’s been so busy trying to forget what Harry said and the argument by giving his all to practice he forgot that Harry too was coping. Liam managed to go through it because when he’s got a ball and his coach pushing the team, it’s easy, but Harry was alone through it and it dawns so hard on him he doesn’t even want to think about it.

He avoids the hand Harry’s bringing to touch his face, turns around and opens the door to his room. Liam lets Harry follow in behind him, he doesn’t fight anything else after that, he’s not sure why but he’s pliant when Harry pulls him in, turns him around and practically burrows against Liam’s body.

“I drank a lot, probably why.” Harry starts explaining and if it wasn’t for how his mouth’s close to Liam’s ear, because he’s got his face buried close to his neck, he wouldn’t have caught any of that. Liam stays silent though because he doesn’t know what to say to that, he doesn’t feel like he’s got anything to say to that. Harry’s pushing them too, making him back towards his bed, which doesn’t work very well because Liam can’t see and they bump into the end of a table.

Well Liam does, he winces and catches himself on Harry, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Careful.” He lets out in a breath after the pain’s starting to fade but is still throbbing. He turns his head, looks around, remembers that Niall’s sleeping and almost cusses. Harry’s laughing, he’s still in that mood and he’s laughing, it’s tickling his skin and Liam feels like laughing too—he does before he can think of stopping himself.

A soft shushing sound follows though and it’s not him, it is Harry’s voice. He stops and listens, now he’s the one who has to press his face to Harry’s shoulder to muffle his voice because Niall’s moving, there’s the sound of sheets rustling and a small groaning sound before it’s silent again. Liam and Harry breaks the stillness as soon as it quiets down again and this time Liam takes the lead, turn them around and guides them to his bed, it works way better than when Harry tried.

It takes a bit of rearranging them. Harry squirms more than he should and Liam’s voice almost rises above a whisper while telling him to stay still, lie still, it’s silly, it’s ridiculous, why are they even doing this. They end up lying on their sides and staring at each other and it feels like the forbidden sleep over every teenagers had.  

They don’t say much, and there’s not much to see because they’ve been stumbling in the dark and it wouldn’t be wise, it would wake Niall up. There’s a touch to his arm as Liam rolls on his stomach and rests his head against a curled arm. The one Harry’s touching moves, because it’s Harry trying to find his hand in the dark and Liam sighs through a small chuckle.

Everything just stills until he finds Harry’s hand and he’s tugged in a sudden movement.

“Closer.” Harry mumbles, his voice sounds like he’s falling asleep, or maybe asleep. Liam would like for him to fall asleep, because he’s sure Harry hasn’t got any proper sleep since he left.

“It wasn’t your fault, y’know, we fought, we both fought and it was awful.” Harry goes on and it’s like he never stopped talking and there wasn’t a whole ten minutes probably that went in between the time he started explaining and the end of his explanation right now. It makes Liam let out a silent snicker, just a breath coming out.

Harry has a way of working with his thoughts. It was hard to keep up with at first, but with time he learned, everyone who knows Harry learned. Some of them ignore how he works, some people just tend to work around it instead. Liam lets himself be carried with it, because it makes Harry, Harry and there are times where it carries him places he doesn’t like and he complain about it, but there’s no changing how Harry’s mind work really.

“I also,” Harry’s voice is softer and even slower if that’s possible, it is, he takes his time, like he’s trying to find his words or trying to not rush into it. The movement of his fingers that have found Liam’s and are prying Liam’s open to fit his in is also slow. The way he slides closer until his head finds Liam’s shoulder and he presses his cheek to it, swallowing around the words he hasn’t said and Liam is giving him the time to pull them out.

“I drank a lot, that’s why, lost weight.” Which is weird, because as far as Liam's not concerned, drinking at least gives a beer belly and Harry's stomach does not feel soft to the touch. But he’s drifting off, falling asleep before Liam can say anything about it. It draws a smile on Liam’s face when Harry turns around and he has to roll back to his side, chest pressed against Harry’s back, an arm around his waist and now Liam’s breathing against Harry’s shoulder.  

“I’m tired, missed you.” are Harry’s last words, they’re just incoherent mumbles but Liam catches some of it, mostly the last one. There’s a smile etched on his face when he does, he closes his eyes and he doesn’t fall asleep immediately, wants to learn how it feels to have Harry in his arms again before falling unconscious.

###

Liam awakes to a stirring, his shoulder is being shaken and there’s a voice trying to slip past the slumber that his mind’s in. It’s hard to focus. He’s even a bit confused at how warm everything is. It takes him a bit longer to react to the hand on his shoulder, still shaking and he grows annoyed by it so he groans and furrows closer to where the warmth is coming from.

He only remembers why it’s there and who is giving it off when finally the voice breaks through and it’s Niall’s, he recognises it, it sounds mocking and Niall always sound this way somehow.

“Mate you might wanna wake up, also your lover boy will have to as well, coach’s going to be here soon.”

Some of the words get stuck in Liam’s mind, coach--lover boy, it’s confusing so he frowns eyes slowly opening and yeah, alright now all of it is crashing down on him and he jolts up so quickly he feels embarrassed at hearing Niall laugh, surely at him.

Liam would glare, but that’s not important right now. He narrows in on Harry sleeping form next to him and that’s more important, he has to wake him up. It’s not an easy task, never has been, probably never will be. There was one time where he had to literally push Harry out of the bed so that he would snap out of it and wake up or else he would have been late for a meeting he had for a new movie. That had been hilarious.

It makes him smile but then Niall’s throwing a towel at him and it lands on his face and reminds him to hurry and Liam groans again. Now he’s the one shaking Harry awake, a light pat on his shoulder at first but that won’t work he knows it and a fond soft smile on his face follows the way Harry just grabs a pillow and puts it on his head.

“Come on, you have to slip out without being seen princess.”

Harry groans because Liam knows how to handle him and the fingers he has pressed against Harry’s sides aren’t innocently poking and making him squirm, they have a purpose. Harry squirms and lets out a muffled sound Liam’s ears recognize as a laugh, a chuckle and then it blooms and Harry’s sitting up, knees bent under him.

“You’re awful.” He sounds sleepy still and Liam tilts his head to take a look at him, amused because Harry’s eyes are still closed. He looks like he’s still sleeping and Liam can’t resist, doesn’t want to, he leans in and lets his mouth rest against Harry’s cheek. The hands he has on Harry’s side gripping instead of probing now, he kisses Harry’s cheek and presses a smile against his skin.

“I know, morning to you too.” There’s a bit of laughter in Liam’s tone, it seems contagious too because despite the low sound Harry makes when he’s not happy about being woken up, there’s the feeling of his dimple against Liam’s lips now which means he’s smiling.

Liam wants to stay there for a bit longer, maybe forever--he feels like smacking himself for being this ridiculously disgusting but instead slaps Harry’s back lightly and gets off the bed before he decides to just keep him there.

“Don’t want to see you when I get back.” He throws over his shoulder while making his way to the bathroom, features softened with a smile though because it feels like he’s got Harry back. It felt like that since yesterday, but waking up next to him makes it more real.

###

It’s a wonder Liam doesn’t get asked any questions or teased senseless. But then, everyone except for Niall don’t know the reason why he’s got a huge grin plastered on his face when he was gloomy during the whole training camp. Also fact is, they probably preferred him this way than grumpy and all closed off.

Training goes so well and even their coach can’t help but admit it, Liam’s good mood makes the team also cheerful. Only Niall teases a bit when they’re alone, bumping shoulders and snickering while mentioning Harry when no one can listen. Or just mentioning that Liam’s got good news yesterday night and that is why he isn’t wearing that awful frown today.

Obviously then the entire team wants to know and it takes everything out of Liam to not just blurt out that Harry’s here, his Harry’s here and they’re fine, they’re even more than that, they’re better than they were. At least he hopes so, thinks so.

He doesn’t though and also runs away from prying questions about wanting to know who the lucky girl is. The assumption makes him shy away immediately to his room, refusing the invitation to hang out because it’s the last day and they will get drunk, coach included.

Liam isn’t in the mood for it, he rarely ever is in the mood to drink. He doesn’t regret the decision either when as soon as he drops his bag on the bed his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pockets to see Harry’s name show on his screen.

[ text: _let’s elope_. ]

Liam frowns, but then he scrolls down to see the picture attached to it. It looks like a restaurant, the front of it at least then there’s more to the text and he really can’t help the small smile that breaks his frown and confusion away.

[ text: _you have two minutes to get here, a car’s waiting outside, in the back it’s safe no worries_. ]

Niall would laugh and ask him how he gets it. But Liam doesn’t have an answer, his mind just does and that he suddenly doesn’t feel as exhausted as he felt minutes earlier also does, all of his being understands what Harry means and wants.

###

It’s a very private restaurant and Liam knows it from the moment he steps out of the car--which he has to mention to Harry that he knows his way around here more than he thinks and doesn’t need transportation like a princess. He would probably get a sneer if he mentions it, but he feels like he has to so he will mention it, later, maybe while he’s tired boneless to care about his words.

It’s low key enough that when Liam steps out no one pays attention to him because there are barely people around. The only one he sees standing around has the frame of Harry’s body and Liam stops next to him, a nudge to his side with his elbow.

“So you want to live in a restaurant?” Liam’s tone is half mocking half fond. His inquiry goes unanswered though, Harry leaning in without even a sign that he was startled or not by Liam’s appearance.

Slipping an easy arm around Liam’s shoulders and nuzzling his nose against Liam’s cheek, like he always does when he thinks Liam’s being silly. Or when Liam cracks a joke and Harry doesn’t laugh because it’s not funny and Liam gets a little offended, so he does that, says _silly Liam_ and there’s really nothing Liam can do to stay mad anymore when that happens.

But with time it’s also turned into just a gesture of affection. For when they’ve been apart for too long, or when Harry doesn’t want to talk just stay close and Liam’s appreciating that it’s happening right now because it’s been scarce lately.

It’s been scarce for too long even, before he can do anything about that Harry’s getting hold of his hand and tugging him inside of the restaurant. There’s this sense of playing hide and seek with the media that comes back and Harry has this small grin that shows he knows what Liam’s thinking, looking around to see if they’re really alone like he’s right now.

“We’re properly hidden.” Harry lets out, following with a small squeeze of Liam’s hand.

Liam snaps his attention back on him, wondering how Harry always knows but then shaking his head at even wanting to ask himself that. Harry doesn’t ask why he knows, it’s like he takes it all like it is, while Liam works it all out and tries to understand. Harry goes with the ride, doesn’t matter where it takes him, he just pulls Liam along and Liam’s left being the one who looks around for bumps, obstacles or eyes following them.

It’s unnerving at times, but right now he should probably just enjoy it like Harry seems to want him to do. He’s got this crease in the middle of his eyebrows when they get to a table and Liam feels bad for making it come there but he can’t help it. It’s empty, so empty it makes his stomach clench with a quite suspicion.

“Reserved it all for today.” Harry’s voice cuts through his thoughts, full of questions as always and Liam wants to scold him for that.

“What, why did you do that for?” He does and Harry shrugs, looking like a kid who can’t explain why he does things the way he does. His fingers start playing with the edge of the table.

“Ever wanted to try cooking in a real kitchen?” He asks then instead of replying, dodging Liam’s worries entirely. While Liam would like to not have the topic closed so abruptly he has to follow when Harry stands up and also has to agree that he likes how quiet it feels. As if they were in his flat, as if they were home like a normal couple, just them.

It makes him relax, realise too that Harry needs this as much as Liam does.

Then something downs on him, and it shouldn’t make him feel upset—he isn’t really but he can’t help but point it out as they step inside of the kitchen, “Are you calling my kitchen not a real one?”

Harry stops and turns to look at Liam like he’s not sure if he’s being serious or not, if this is going to be a trap and if he says the wrong thing it will cause trouble. But it’s easily settled when Liam can’t help the laugh he was holding in. It breaks his expression and he feels almost bad at how Harry’s shoulders relax and how he looks a bit put out, like he’s going to be sulking.

Then he’s sulking and Liam has to get a hand against his side and pull him down to kiss the way his bottom lip feels just a bit more jutted.

“I thought you quit playing chief.” Liam mouths, doesn’t quite let go of Harry’s lip, smiles as he gets another kiss and Harry pressing closer his arms falling on Liam’s shoulders.

“Never.”

Liam makes to say something, but he ends up laughing a little because Harry’s making a silly face. It’s his job most of the times to make faces Harry laughs at. But sometimes, Harry will act out and remind Liam he’s the actor in this relationship and do things that shouldn’t exist on his face. He’s got one he uses all the time on Liam to get things the way he wants them and up till now, a year and some later, Liam still fell for it.

The sound of Liam’s stomach grumbling disturbs the moment. Harry’s snickering against his mouth, kissing him one more time before letting go and turning to where the aprons are hanging, pulling two and handing one to Liam.

“Be the best chef assistant you can be.” Harry tells him over his shoulder, already getting what he will need out and Liam kind of likes that side of him. He always looks serious when he does the things he likes.

It is always a surprise for people to find out that despite the way he’s open to the world at times, Harry could act any kind of emotions. Because as much as he could let the world see what he thinks and what he wants, he’s also even better at hiding it all and keeping it jealously away from all prying eyes. It’s a thing Liam’s still scared of at times, but it’s also a thing that’s happening less and less when they’re together.

He doesn’t know for how long he’s been staring but it seems it is long enough for Harry to be standing, eyebrows furrowing and staring back at him until Liam blinks back to the present.

“What?” He asks and Harry arches both of his eyebrows then.

“You tell me.”

Liam shakes his head, a smile breaking the blank thoughtful face he probably was wearing before. A soft nothing leaves him, he doesn’t know why he resists the urge to cup Harry’s face in his hand, press a kiss to his open mouth and tell him what he actually is thinking right now, but he does and then he distracts him by grabbing one of the ingredients out of his hand.

“Let’s start this, yeah?”

###

Stomach full and heart light; that is how Liam describes this in his head because he feels that way and it’s quite amazing. In a way that all he can do is shake his head at Harry standing by the edge of the river that’s behind the restaurant. They found it after they were done eating and Harry insisted somehow that they go swim in it. It’d been a hard task to dissuade him from the idea, still he’s standing there arms up shouting something at the sky Liam doesn’t think is supposed to make sense.

Mostly it just sounds like he’s yelling nothing, at the same time it feels like he’s laughing and the empty sky swallows the sound, echoing it around them. The sound of the river running makes Liam step close too, but he stands next to where Harry is, not stepping up on the same edge.

There’s a surreal feeling to it, Liam almost begins to believe that it isn’t happening. Although Harry’s presence fills the air and is warm despite the small distance between them—but he can’t grasp it. He looks down at his feet, back up and Harry’s not so far anymore. He’s sitting and facing Liam, legs at either side of his body, looking much younger.

Which he is, he’s much younger than Liam and Liam does forget that sometimes. When he isn’t the one that has to put Harry back on tracks he forgets it. When Harry’s acting like he needs to be led, looking unsure of how to react to Liam’s words at times, he remembers too. Right now he isn’t doing any of these, he looks sure, he looks content and it softens every edge he has in his features. There’s an even a smile Liam knows Harry wears only when he feels satiated to the point that nothing would ruin the day for him.

He likes to think he does that to Harry more than anyone else does. Actually, he likes to think he’s the only one who does that to Harry. It might be because when Harry’s there, everything else feels secondary, life as it was before Harry stepped in seems to be fading.

It slips away from Liam’s grasp, which has Harry’s hands instead, fingers sliding through his as Harry lets out a soft laugh, and it’s low but there and Liam catches it. Probably that Harry making this a whole world on its own, them, something out of this world, that’s why Liam feels like it’s not real at times.

But then Harry makes sure to remind him that it is, pressing his lips to Liam’s forehead and he’s saying what Liam hasn’t been able to say. What he’s figured to but still gets tongue tied when he wants to utter them. It baffles him so hard that he pulls back for a bit.

Harry’s expression shifts for a second before Liam shakes his head and gets his hands against his cheeks instead.

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—you took me by surprise.” Then he watches Harry’s face fall back to how it was and Liam’s trying to smile his way through it, but really his stomach is in knots. Due to what he can’t tell. Fear, not so much. Anxiety, a bit of it, but that would also relate to the latter. Then there’s just something else he can’t put his finger on. There’s a shaky laugh getting out of him and Liam shakes his head, realising he’s doing what Harry does the most, think.

But then again he probably does thinking more than Harry does, except that when he thinks he also voices it out instead of how Harry keeps it in until it rushes out when he can’t contain them anymore. Right now though, it’s Harry who’s letting go and that truth registers in his mind, enough for Liam to lean in and lower Harry’s head till their foreheads bump.

He feels a bit nauseous, but it’s not a bad kind, just that his heart’s doing this thing where it wants to come out of his chest and it’s making him dizzy the amount of heartbeats he can count right now.

Liam is about to also let it out, let it go but Harry surges forward faster than his words, a smile against Liam’s mouth and his laugh raising above Liam’s voice. He wants to protest, push Harry away so he can say it properly, there’s a whine in the back of his throat because now that he knows he can he wants to properly say it.

But Harry doesn’t let go, doesn’t stop kissing him and Liam thinks that’s alright too. Liam doesn’t need to say the words, Harry might have known it from the beginning even before Liam did.

Liam does forget at times that he’s even more of an open book.

###

It’s been a month since then and quite frankly, nothing’s changed. Liam’s not sure what he thought would change, maybe Harry’s way of forgetting dinner dates still and inability to show up when he says he will. Or the time that they usually spend together getting more and more instead of less and less after they came back from the camp.

It’s just, it’s been harder than it was. It doesn’t down on him until the fourth night when he has to look at his phone, the beeping sound of being hung up on quickly with an excuse from Harry, busy Harry that has no time to actually pass by and how long has it been? Three weeks, literally.

The first week he didn’t think anything of it, because well Harry’s busy. He has interviews and premieres to attend, charity, galas and more things that Liam doesn’t really know about. He doesn’t watch much of the telly sitting in his flat, he only has it because when Harry comes over he likes going through channels aimlessly, just for the fun of watching all the different emissions passing on.

Also because they like challenging each other over video games, in which most of the times Harry loses, sulks and makes Liam feel guilty so that he doesn’t even have the heart to mock him.

Fact is—Liam feels like the distance between them, the one he thought they crushed when they were by the river, it’s spread wider, got further and now he isn’t even sure he knows who Harry is. Fact is, he doesn’t even know what Harry looks like. He’s resorted to actually turning the telly on and trying to see what Harry’s been up to so he can keep up, but it hurts more to do that. Because when Harry tells him he’s busy, it means usually that he’s just busy for Liam, not for the cameras or whoever else he’s going to be photographed with.

Liam doesn’t want to believe this, the thing sitting at his kitchen counter right now. But fact is, Harry just hung up on him when he was going to ask and he’s not going to turn around the topic, not right now. If Harry’s too busy to talk, to even clarify a rumour that he’s seeing someone which, that can’t be true. Because Harry has Liam, the world might not know but Harry does and so does Liam, at least he thinks he does.

Worrying isn’t something he can do silently. He’s been keeping sane with jogs and training, because Niall’s been making sure he keeps sane by doing so. Pulling him out even on raining days and telling him that during a match it won’t matter if he’s down, or at his best, if it’s pouring like there’s no tomorrow, he will still need to play and do it until the end.

Liam considers hitting the send button with the words _we need to talk._

They’re heavy on his heart and in the back of his throat and he swallows, closes his eyes for a second before pushing the button and it’s gone. He doesn’t wait to get an answer, goes to get changed and texts Niall about training today. Niall doesn’t even take a second to answer with an agreement and a place where to meet while Liam’s pulling his trousers down to get his training clothes on.

###

Of course Niall asks as soon as he sees him but doesn’t press the subject. Maybe because for the first time in three weeks Liam actually didn’t even bother with saying that he’s fine, because he isn’t. Nothing’s fine and right now all he wants is the wind when he runs, his legs taking him further and further away from his flat’s building.

He went ahead and made so many memories with Harry that just thinking about it slipping out of his grip. Liam loses footing for a bit and stumbles forward, cusses and this time Niall does stop and press the matter.

“Mate, maybe today’s not good?” Niall looks worried and Liam wants to tell him that it’s fine, he needs this. But he’s not fine, though he does really need this all he needs to do is push Harry out of his thoughts. An idea that has him snorting, shoulders lifting up before he sighs and rumples his hair.

“No, no, I need this, please let’s just do it. The league’s soon after all.” Liam’s angry at himself now for being so dramatic about it. For thinking so much about it, hates that he can’t stop thinking about it. To the point that Niall gives him another sceptical look instead of just agreeing with a smile that would say that he believes Liam’s words.

But he’ll do with this right now. He’s so grateful when Niall starts running again he even forget for a second why he’s doing this, then scolds himself when he remembers it. Liam shakes his head and counts each seconds as the rhythm suddenly picks up. He feels it and looks next to him at Niall who grins, cocking an eyebrow.

“Can’t keep up?” There’s a challenging tone in his voice and it works so well on Liam’s mind. Distracts him so good that he lets out a laugh, the most genuine one he’s managed to pull out for a while before going ahead of Niall.

“You wish!” He exclaims as he hears Niall laugh behind him but doesn’t stop, Niall will catch up, he always does. He’s most likely the only one who can outdo Liam in their team. It was a running joke that it was because he was tiny, but two years have done nothing but make him grow and that died long ago. Along with Liam’s ability to outrun him which is why Niall’s catching up quickly, easily at that and Liam startles with a laugh when he finds out they’re running side by side again.

There’s no winning this, but there’s no bitterness in this either. Just jesting around with a mate that he enjoys the company of. Liam knows this is just a distraction, but it was meant to be after all, and he wonders if Niall can see how grateful he is by the time they stop and he literally sprawls on the grass--eyes to the sky.

Not surprisingly Niall does. He sits next to Liam in the grass, leaning on his arms, huffing and catching his breath as well and he just tells Liam, “It’ll get better.”

It could be about their performance but there’s this tone in his voice, quiet and the weight of it lets Liam know that it’s more than that. Like how Niall assured him that Harry and him had stuck through this for too long to kill it now back in training camp. Liam lets the words sit between them for a while, his breathing evening as well. Because he thinks, maybe if he doesn’t add anything then this could be a wish, because he wants it to get better.

There has been good times, but Liam doesn’t see himself just hoping that the good times will come back. Hell, that’s not even what he wants. He wants Harry to tell him what’s going on, because they have been disconnected somewhere, somehow and now this article in the newspaper and Liam just wants to know where they went wrong.

But somehow, the silence doesn’t feel like it will fulfil anything but let Liam’s thoughts run with the weight of his muscle giving in, sore and lazy after a workout. He closes his eyes to the sky and doesn’t want to ask for anything or plead, he just wants to not have to think.

###

He manages not to so well that the moment he hears the click of the door open, he knows this is it, they’re going to be doing this now. Harry hasn’t replied to the message, something Liam refused to dwell on, instead he busied himself with the telly, more work out, a shower, a nap and all that time Harry still hadn’t replied.

Not that he checked his phone in between each activities--well he wished he hadn’t but he did. There’s no shame in it, why does Liam have to feel bad for wanting an answer at least? A sign that Harry’s not gone from this, that he’s still there and will give Liam the answers he wants when he asks them? Because Liam does, he gives Harry all the answers, so expecting the same is just normal.

It should be, but then he’s looking up at Harry walking in the living room and stopping short when he sees Liam on the couch. It feels like a déjà vu. Liam sees the same scene that happened months ago and lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Harry doesn’t break the silence this time, he just walks right to the couch and settles next to Liam without saying anything. So they stay there, not looking at each other, Liam fiddling with his thumbs as he tries to think of where this is supposed to lead them. Harry must know what this is about, if he checked his phone, if he deemed it worthy enough to check his phone when Liam texted him.

There came the thoughts that he doesn’t want to indulge in. Liam’s starting to grow impatient really quickly, and it’s such a surprise to him but why should it be really, Harry always pulls in him things that he never knew he could ever feel before.

Jealousy, uncertainty, those he is used to them. But this anger, this passive-aggressiveness that doesn’t let him be the one to break the silence. This bitterness in the back of his throat, lodged and refusing to let Liam swallow his pride. This is new.

He doesn’t even so much as let a sigh out to break this silence, he wants Harry to feel it too. That Liam’s not the same right now. That Liam’s doing something different and it’s all his fault. When he decides he’s about as calm as he can be to look at Harry and does, he’s taken aback by Harry already doing the same thing.

Looking straight at Liam with that expression that screams that Harry wants to apologise but doesn’t know if he should even say anything. Liam can almost see the control that Harry’s putting on his words, though he looks away when Liam catches him looking but his profile doesn’t do much to hide it.

“So,” Liam decides to break the silence because want it or not, they have to talk, “Is it true?”

He didn’t mean to start with that, but he has to face it, this is what’s been nudging at his brain all along. So that his mind just makes him chose those words does not surprise him but angers him a little, he reacts with a huff at himself and a quick look down at his lap.

Harry stays silent, he doesn’t answer, doesn’t start denying it like Liam’s expecting him to--was expecting him to. He just stays silent and Liam has to look at him to know why he’s not saying anything. Wishing he would just deny it, wishing he would just tell Liam that it’s not true obviously because Harry has Liam and the media tends to exaggerate everything.

Especially when Harry’s in the news, he’s learned that a few times. Liam isn’t an avid reader of gossip, but even then it’s hard to miss the scandals in which Harry’s been involved. The ones he did during their fight before the training camp lasted for an entire week and some more. Drinking, partying, deserting--things that Liam’s been pushing aside because Harry apologised so many times it just didn’t seem so important at one point.

But now it resurfaces because Harry looks lost on what to say. Why? Liam doesn’t know but would like to. But this hesitation makes him scowl, fear settling in his guts and he wants to kick himself, anywhere, hard enough to make the pain go. He makes to stand up but Harry catches his wrist and pulls him back on the couch.

“Don’t touch me.” Liam’s voice is in control, it surprises him, but it doesn’t shake. It’s firm and ordering and Harry lets go like he’s been burned.

Harry’s slumping in the couch now, letting his body relax against the cushion, “I’m not sure, if you’re talking about the article then,” He lets out a small sound, almost like a chuckle, one that Liam doesn’t understand because all of his nerves stand alert to Harry’s answer and Harry’s just laughing.

“I don’t even want to answer that.”

Liam fights the urge to yell at Harry to maybe get the bloody hell out of his flat before he does something reckless and totally out of control like kick him out of it. But it’s such an exaggerated reaction that he just settles for bearing with the heat that’s spreading everywhere, from his face down to his chest, not the good kind. He can feel himself almost sweating and this time he does stand up without Harry stopping him.

“Seriously Harry? That’s all you’re going to say? You don't want to answer?” Liam’s not ready to think over his words, not anymore, “Or is it that, you know, you’re such a bad liar that if you can’t even manage to get through this?” He’s not just mad now. Usually, he would just throw words in anger, not this dull pain that kept throbbing in his chest, threatening to have him say worse than what’s being thrown in the room right now.

Harry’s up too now and he has the guts to actually look angry too. As angry as Liam is, and why the fuck is he angry? Liam’s not the one with his face all up in the papers, with some famous actress on his arm that’s allegedly his girlfriend. Liam’s not the one who’s probably--”Are you cheating on me?”

It comes out less angry than Liam thought it would. It’s so soft, almost like he doesn’t want to ask that, didn’t want to at least, and now it’s just out there with Harry’s eyebrows furrowing. His expression switching from anger, to bewilderment, then to nothing.

“You should learn to trust me.”

That doesn’t answer Liam’s question at all. The more Harry dodges it, the less likely he is to trust him, isn’t that just logical? Liam’s suddenly not mad anymore, he’s not at all, he’s hurt and not because of the article or even the fact that Harry hasn’t talked to him for an entire month after what was supposed to be a make-up. Not at all. That’s the worst part. He’s hurt because Harry just doesn’t look like he understands, or wants to understand. He doesn’t look lost or confused or apologetic anymore, he just looks like this man that Liam’s never known.

Liam doesn’t want to know this man.

“Just answer me, Harry.”

“No, no I’m not answering, because you shouldn’t even ask that.” More avoidance and Liam just feels tired at this point. He’s not going through this again. Harry should know better than anyone else that Liam has reason for not trusting, Liam knows what it feels like to go through betrayal without any way of knowing how to pull back from it.

“I shouldn’t even ask that? Do you hear yourself? We haven’t spoken in almost a month and the only news I get of you is through a magazine stating that you’re dating someone else, and I shouldn’t be asking if it’s true or not? That’s insane Harry! We’re together, you and I.” He’s raised his voice, but more importantly, his tone is shaky and he wants to bite away this hopeless note. He doesn’t want to sound pathetic, it’s one thing Liam really doesn’t want. But uncertainty’s turning into fear that he might have been right, this could be the end, it makes him immediately panics.

“Are we really? Last time I checked couples go out together without having to hide at all.” That stings so hard. Harry just throwing it there between them. “At least she wasn’t ashamed of being seen with me.”

Liam’s not sure what to do with this now. He just, he isn’t sure and the words are missing. Harry looks serious, he looks hurt too and Liam wants him to take that back because he’s been thinking about it. He’s been wanting to tell Harry that maybe they should come out, maybe now was the time for it. But right now, at this moment, he’s almost too glad that Harry didn’t have any free time to give him.

How pathetic would it have been? That Harry’s just washing everything away with his words makes Liam more resentful.

So that he ends up blurting quickly, “We should end this.” is the fault of his nervousness and fear of being the one left alone again. His mind quickly catches onto the hope that if he’s the one to end it, then maybe this won’t be too painful. It’s a stupid reasoning. Liam knows it as he holds Harry’s gaze, the way it suddenly turns impassable.

“If that’s what you want.”

Liam doesn’t even know why that stings. He’s making a choice, because they’re not ready they might have never been ready. But that Harry doesn’t even try to oppose it, looks as if he’s also more resigned than Liam is, it numbs the pain. There’s just this dull ache now that doesn’t even feel like anything.

Because this is not what he wants, it’s what he has to do. He keeps repeating that over and over again until he gives a small nod.

“It is.” It’s not, but Liam’s tired now.

Of fighting, of wondering if Harry will ever have enough of him. Of clinging to the good times, the happy ones, the ones where Harry belongs to him and not to the world. Of wondering if Harry will ever get tired of being hidden, Harry doesn’t like hiding. He likes putting on a face, acting, playing a role, but he never hides. He goes out to the world, gives them what they want from him and the consequences don't really matter.

It dawns on him and Liam knows he isn’t that way. He keeps to himself because this is how he’s kept himself safe all this time. Safety first. Yet here he is, feeling Harry walk past him without even touching him and walking out of the flat. Bile in his throat, tight fists in his pockets. It’s only when Liam hears the slam of the door that he realises that’s it, he’s done this, _again_.

The silence is heavy, where Liam would have been happy to hear his own thoughts not bothering him for once. It just makes him aware of all the empty spaces that Harry was filling and how big they all are now. He turns around a few times with no real purpose until he can’t and just sits on the ground, back against the couch, head buried his hands.

He’s not crying, not yet, but he’s close to. He wants to, and that’s more painful because the tears just won’t come.

###


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy, it took me ages to get this out but it's not for not working on it it's because I was working on it. God I'm sorry, life got busy and all too in the middle of all of it and while writing I thought it would never end! But there's so much more fluff in this one and surprise surprise--they communicate! Thank you so much for the comments and the kind words and the patience. It's fun to explore different things through Liam's mind, I started this as something fun and now it's a monster, half betaed by a friend and the other half by me, if any mistakes remain they're mine and mine only, but I hope you enjoy!

It’s a usual morning, like the usual mornings Liam’s grown to like. Or should he say, he had to grow to like. Not quite forcing himself, but in a way that the first morning after Harry left—a morning he doesn’t like to think about now, that he thinks about less as time passes—he never made it out of bed. The sun could have shun bright through his curtains, all he wanted to do was lay down and that was all he did.

Ignored the phone calls, ignored the doorbell and just tried to sleep the day away. The next day was a bit better, he likes to think it was. Also maybe because Niall was there and knocking and ringing until Liam decided to pull himself out of bed, so it had to be a good day. Since he wasn’t all alone.

Then each morning became the same ritual, Niall dropping by, chastising him into dressing up, forcing him to come for a run, then just hanging around until it was time for Liam to go to bed. Until he knew Liam just wanted some time of his own, to stay alone. Niall respected that and Liam was thankful.

He’s still thankful, even if now he doesn’t need it much. He likes to think so, he wants to think so. Now he can wake up, get out of bed, shower and without having to wake up Niall sleep next door. At one point it just became easier to let him move in instead of always having him to drop by. It might also been to the fact that he’d caught Liam having a nightmare once—just once and decided he had to be closer than just every morning and every day but every night as well.

All this reminded Liam of was when it wasn’t Harry who’d left, but Liam who’d done so years ago, before Harry came. Except that as Niall said in his own words, “You weren’t that worse when it was all over though.” Though he bit his tongue and did all he could to not let Liam think about what that implied actually. Feeling so guilty he made breakfast the next day—a breakfast Liam barely touched because he was still thinking about it.

It was also that morning that Liam realised what was happening to him, Niall’s words probably hitting a string he hadn’t even meant to hit. But it strung and that next morning, Liam dressed himself without Niall having to tell him so and he was the one to ask Niall out for a jog. To stop thinking. That was the point; that was how he would heal, it downed on him and up until then this is what he does best.

He runs, he forgets, he doesn’t think.

It started gradually, surprising Niall by waking up before him, waking up Niall instead of the other way round. Even if at times Liam woke up because of the nightmares, nightmares that he would get so used to that at one point he just stopped waking up with a scream that could wake Niall up.

Instead, nowadays, he wakes up sweating but with the need to get rid of the bitter taste the dream left on his tongue. So Niall doesn’t question lately, he just follows along with Liam’s pace to keep him on the line so he doesn’t overdo it. Liam’s at this point though where he doesn’t need to overdo it anymore.

It’s a usual pace, monotone, but it’s relaxing. It’s almost like the pace he had with Harry doesn’t exist anymore. It’s like there’s just Liam, the Liam who left his house too early to join the Football academy of Manchester, the one who’s dream is still to one day enter the Manchester team, which isn’t such a faraway dream now.

Not with the recent word his coach got to him that they accepted to try him out.

It’s just recent, barely a week old, but he feels like he’s still buzzing with the news. There’s something new happening and it makes him feel like, things happen and he might regret some decision, missing some closure but—he’s in a good place right now.

It’s a good morning. A good morning to push Niall’s door open and turn the radio by his bedside on, tuning into the last song that was playing on blast yesterday night in his room. Liam knows it was because he had to yell pretty loudly for Niall to stop dancing alone and let him sleep in peace. He’s pretty sure the neighbours would have come complaining too if he hadn’t done that.

So it serves Niall just right when he jolts up and groans into his pillow before throwing it right at Liam’s face. Serves him just right and Liam just laugh before reaching out with both hands to shove Niall out of his bed.

“Now should be the time to wake up and dance!” Liam’s voice has to go over the loud music that’s starting to hurt his ears if he’s honest. But just for the face of clear annoyance that Niall’s wearing when he rolls until he falls off the bed, he’s not going to mind it one bit. 

“You’re a prick, the worst, I revoke our friendship card.” There’s another groan though it sounds closer to a whine this time and Liam rolls over to look down at Niall, chin against the edge of the bed.

“Such a mouthy sleeping beauty.”

Liam gets a grimace, only laughs it off. A shove in his face that has him moving away and out of the door, not before turning the volume of the radio even higher.

“Hurry, I need my daily dose of wining against Niall.” And slamming the door at the non comical laugh that leaves Niall’s mouth at his words—and the pillow that follows suit.

If it goes on, it could be a good day.

###

It does go on, and it gets so close to being the perfect day and then, Liam’s staring at Niall after doing his stretching and Niall’s face is telling him that something’s up. He’s not sure he wants to ask what, but he doesn’t have to with Niall. Because he’s already opening his mouth as he jogs to a stop next to Liam and starts doing his stretching as well.

“You’ll never know who came back.” There’s a grimace with it, and Liam’s not too sure. There aren’t a lot of people that Niall actually genuinely dislikes. Then Niall’s opening his mouth to explain but he doesn’t have to, not when the coach does so perfectly.

Asking for everyone’s attention and then Liam’s staring at what is making Niall grimace and he’s still right, Niall doesn’t hate a lot of people, doesn’t even hate this person as well, if anything he doesn’t appreciate them because Liam’s the one who has a thing with this person. Liam’s the one who should hate them and yet, he’s just feeling rather calm as he stands there and advances at the same time as the other members of the team.

There’s nothing for a little while, just whispers and the coach’s hand clasping the man’s shoulder and then a few smiles that Liam catches. The team’s gained new members so only the old ones know who this is.

There’s no big fuss, just a congratulations for being back, then the coach’s yelling at them to get back to work. But he knows, he has to know, that they’ll want to get reacquainted with their old team mate. Or at least, get to know for the newest addition. Liam, he almost follows Niall when he tugs on his sleeve, but he decides to stay.

Because there’s this sense of stillness and Niall must sense it because he lets go and then gives him a few pat, as if wishing him good luck and then he’s jogging away to finish what he was doing.

Liam knows he’ll end up walking towards him and when he does, he waits for it, waits until they’re face to face and acknowledges the light nod that he gives as a greeting.

“Still here.”

“Nice to see you too Lou.”

There’s a pause, and Lou—Louis, looks almost taken aback. It’s a first, Liam never actually imagined that them meeting again would be this casual, this light. He thought he wouldn’t even want to see Louis’ face again and yet, he’s feeling none of it at the moment. The tug of hate that he carried with him for so long that it almost destroyed the first few months that he had with the what wasn’t yet of Harry and him.

The thought has him immediately looking down, wanting to get rid of it. Now it’s the other way round, except that he’s not even thinking of what Louis is not doing to him anymore. Just that there’s nothing, until Louis lets out a chuckle and a sigh, it sounds more like a breath let out of relief. Like Louis expected the same thing Liam did.

Tension and yet there’s no pull.

Three years of thinking that they would be forever and almost two years of being nothing and all of it is just gone. It’s gone and there’s nothing but this, Liam laughing a little as well.

“How was it?” Letting that out, as if he’s rekindling with an old friend, which in a sense he is. They were friend before anything, although they were also rivals before friends. But they were friends, and that got lost in the way of Liam not wanting to figure out what Louis wanted him to figure out.

High school wasn’t an easy place to come out of with a dream as big as wanting to be an international football player and the sense that it could be ruined with just one little truth. But he couldn’t blame it on being a teenager, because it was after their last year that the issue arose. Just a year ago, a week before he met Harry, wasn’t it.

Louis starts to talk about it in question, it being the program he enrolled in for a full year training. A decision he took after Liam told him that he wasn’t ready for this, to come out and at the same time made Louis make the decision for him to end whatever it was they were. What it was they thought they’d be for the rest of their lives.

If anything—right now, Liam’s happy that he’s not feeling any hate, any resentment, just a little sting of nostalgia, it must show because Louis stops talking about the year away and just stops in his tracks and holds out a hand.

“Come here Payno, give me a real proper hug.” He says and Liam feels fond if anything, so he goes in and does what he’s told, gives Louis a real proper hug. It feels great, he might cry, but he hasn’t let a single tear out in months and he’s not going to give in now, it might never stop if he does. It won’t be just for this, but a lot more things that he wants to make sure he forgot.

So all in all, Liam thinks when he pulls back, it’s not the best of days.

( But even Niall agrees later on that it went much, much better than he thought it would go. )

###

“Does this mean I can stop hating him?” He asks once he and Liam are back at Liam’s flat and Liam has to roll his eyes even though Niall’s just laughing at it.

“No seriously, we were the best pals and what he did was awful, I’m still on your side, but it’s such a hard task to hate someone.”

Liam has to agree, it is a hard task, though he’s not sure if he’s ever really felt hate. Sure he’s disliked a lot of things Harry did—though he can’t tell why the first thing that the word brings to his mind is Harry—although maybe he can tell why. It’s because as much as he’s loved Harry, he’s also certain that there’s always been this fine line between love and hate that lingered in throughout their relationship.

A game of tug and pull and see who falls first. As it was, Liam feels as if they ended up falling together.

Or maybe he just got tired and let go of the string.

See, now it’s turning out to be rather bad day because he’s thinking. He’s thinking of what he’s done, which always brings him close to reconsidering and maybe trying to reach out. It’s also hard to not do so when Harry’s everywhere. Want it or not, he’s bound to see pictures, or interviews, or sometimes even movies that Harry’s played n. Granted they aren’t a lot because as popular as he is, he’s still new to the scene.

Which is a blessing. Because Liam can’t imagine how he’d survive if Harry had featured in more movies than he had at the moment. But it isn’t just the movies, the press, the magazines, everyone just seemed to love him at the moment, especially when it was the time where Liam could not stand to see a single picture of Harry without wanting to throw the magazine across the room.

It just seemed that the moment when Liam hated him the most everyone started loving him even more. 

Not just the press though.

The feminine gent as well, which, irony is the reason why Liam quit in the first place. So Niall tells him to not bitter about it and just think that he can finally move on. But how the bloody hell does he even move on when the person he’s supposed to be leaving behind is constantly following him? On screen, on paper, on every newsfeed. 

Niall must sense that he stopped paying attention because there’s only silence once Liam lets out a frustrated growl at himself for slipping past the barrier of thoughts to not have and he’s blinking at Niall who’s just staring at him a carrot against his mouth.

“Okay there?” Niall asks and Liam has to get rid of the heaviness remembering brought on him before nodding. It’s feeble, as if he’s not sure, but he does feel okay. Thinking about it once in a while works better than letting it all boil until he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Yea.” He nods again and leaves Niall in the kitchen to head to the living room. It’s almost like Liam calls the unwanted onto him because the instant he turns the telly on there’s an interview. Which seems harmless at first, until the camera moves from the woman’s face and then just zooms right in on who he definitely does not want to see at the moment and he holds the groan right in.

It wasn’t going to come out anyway, just a sigh and maybe a lingering glance but he’s holding the command and ready to turn it off except that Harry starts talking and Liam’s and just stays there in the air without doing anything. He doesn’t turn it off. It’s almost mechanical, the way he rounds the couch and settles comfortably and ends up keeping his eyes glued to the screen, watching the way Harry talks without even listening to what he’s saying.

He feels a little angry with himself, because he still does this. It’s not the first time. He still does this and when is he ever going to get out of this habit? A habit taken from before the break up. Although it was done more in amusement and because Liam missed Harry and Harry would tell him when he would be having an interview and ask him to watch it because he’d do something to know tell Liam that he missed him too. Just a gesture.

A secret code of some sort.

The memory seems to kick in at the same time as Liam’s eyes catches a motion and he stops breathing for the split of second he thinks he sees it. But it’s not really. Harry’s not the same gesture, not quite touching his hair. His hand hangs above his head and he looks at the camera like he realises what he was about to do though.

Liam lets himself breathe again, mouth curling in what’s barely a smile. He just almost did it. Then he shakes his head, he must have just been projecting his own need. It is easy to see what he wants if he’s just watching. He forces himself to stop watching what Harry does, but all that makes him do is watch Harry instead.

Harry who seems thinner yet better and Liam realises too, that he hasn’t taken the time to look at any of the pictures in the magazine or the big titles, unless they were related to a scandal of any sort. Injuries or relationships scandals.

Because he can say anything he wants, there’s this other thing that comes with loving someone for so long—it’s that he can’t stop caring.

He cares. That’s why it hurts, because as much as he wants to hate Harry when he needs to now. When he’s gone and there’s nothing left. All Liam’s left with is this dull aching pain that reminds him that he still cares and he’s not sure he will ever stop caring. He cares as to why Harry’s collarbones are showing more than they did before.

He cares about who’s going to be holding Harry’s arm tomorrow in the front cover of a magazine and he’s the one who ended this but all of it is just hard.

Liam’s not sure for how long he stays sitting there while the interview just goes on but he blinks back only when the screen goes black and he startles out of it. Turns his head to see Niall giving him a disapproving look, though it softens when Liam gives him a sheepish smile. He’s glad Niall chooses ignore it if he sees that his eyes have turned a bit wet and that he lets Liam get off the couch and head to his bedroom.

With a soft, “’Night, Ni.” A ruffle to his hair and Liam’s gone. The silence follows him up to the bedroom, down to his bed, where he buries his face in the new pillows. Necessity that Niall made him do, replace everything old with something new sort of therapy.

Liam lets out a choked laugh because the truth is he’s not used to them. He misses the old ones, he misses everything all of a sudden and it comes crashing so hard he has to take a deep breath. It’s a wonder he’s not crying, but maybe it’s also a start.

Half a year, and it’s now that he’s letting himself miss it all.

So maybe he’s ready to move on, once he lets himself back into the reality of it.

###

But the next few days don’t change. In fact, he does more to forget, he also gets ready for the Manchester United try out and it keeps him busy enough that he doesn’t even have to listen to Niall telling him to slow down. He doesn’t slow down—and goes even harder when he learns that Louis is also trying out at the same time.

If anything, it awakes the rivalry they used to have back in high school.

Louis doesn’t slip back in like everything’s fine, but it feels like the years before everything fell apart. Niall’s the one who makes it happen at first though, just talking to Louis like he’s missed him, missed their trio and Liam feels bad that he had to push them away because of him. Although he also learns that Niall secretly kept in touch with Louis after a few days.

Just like running, Liam gradually stops looking to see who’s left behind. Healing takes time, but he thinks he’s getting to it. He can pick up a magazine and go through it and not close it immediately when Harry’s face shows with another scandal—or as it is right now a new movie that he’s currently filming.

“You're a fan?”

Liam startles and turns to see who’s talking over his shoulder, offering a smile at Louis’ grin and shaking his head but then shrugging, feeling uncertain.

“Not really.” He finally answers, watches Louis take the seat facing him.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were, even if I don’t think you would be just for his movies.” Louis goes on, which must mean he doesn’t notice Liam’s uneasiness, which is good. Which probably means maybe Liam’s uneasiness is just in his mind and he just looks normal to other people when Harry’s brought in any discussion.

“I know I’m not.” That has Liam looking up at Louis and just starting at the way Louis arches his eyebrows in a suggestive way and Liam can’t help it, he feels his face heat up a little and then he’s standing up and trying to find an excuse to leave the table.

“The loo.” As weak as it sounds, “I have to go, yeah.” And then he’s leaving in what is the quickest escape of all times. He doesn’t even want to know what Louis’ expression looks like at the moment.

###

In fact Liam doesn’t want to see any of Louis’ expressions after that, he just plain avoids him until of course Niall has to come crashing down next to him on the couch after a run and blurt out the obvious question.

“Why are you avoiding Louis?”

Liam huffs and keeps switching channels after channels, not sure if he wants to answer the question. Actually, he doesn’t want to. Because he’s being ridiculous, all Louis did was make a comment that anyone is allowed to make. In a sense Harry doesn’t belong to Liam, never did belong to Liam, they just had a thing, that isn’t a thing anymore.

So this bitter bile of—jealousy was disgustingly infuriating.

“Nothing, I just,” Another change, “Don’t feel like talking to him.”

“Huhuh.” Niall’s nodding but Liam can’t see the smile that’s forming on his mouth as he does so.

There’s this thing, Liam knows it must be showing, when he lies. A blush that just sits right there on his face and refuses to leave his skin no matter how hard he tries, he doesn’t try anymore actually, he knows he can’t lie that well. Big deal.

“He just said something about Harry and I reacted too strongly.” He ends up blurting the truth because there’s nothing good on the telly and it’s frustrating and Niall always ends up knowing everything anyway.

“And now you can’t face him because you don’t want him questioning you.”

Give it to Niall to figure the rest out—although he’s a bit off track but not so far so Liam just nods and sighs a little.

“Am I,” He turns to face Niall, forget the telly nothing good will appear magically because he wants it to, “A jealous person?”

One of Niall’s eyebrow arches up and stays there for a bit too long for Liam’s taste, no reply just that and Liam arches both of his.

“Just a question.”

“Do I lose any friendship points if I give an honest answer?”

There has to be some thinking about that before he shakes his head and then Niall relaxes against the couch and reaches for the command and then he’s the one shuffling through channels too.

“Considering you broke up with you-know-who, because of you-know-what, yeah I think you are,”

“I lied, you lose ten points.” Liam immediately answers and snatches the command away.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

Liam just laughs, tongue sticking out a bit and ignores the few pokes that Niall’s giving to his side. Squirming and trying to get away from Niall’s prying hands that are most likely going for the remote. All it does is make Liam accidentally let go of it and they have to stare at a sudden news flash that starts with Harry’s name and that’s definitely enough to make Liam stop reaching for the remote and stare at the screen.

Niall would have taken this as an opportunity if this was an interview, or something else that Harry would typically appear on, not the news channel. With a journalist all in a tailor suit, reading the news as if it doesn’t affect anyone but all Liam can read is the word accident and Harry’s name in big white letters on the news channel.

The phone rings just then and Liam’s still a bit too frozen to recognize his ringtone but Niall’s not. Niall reaches for it and shakes Liam’s arm a little to get him to snap out of it.

“Unknown number.” He says when he hands the phone to Liam, whose eyes are still glued to the screen even if the news about Harry’s accident is already gone.

“Liam?”

Liam doesn’t recognize the voice at first, for a million reasons that definitely include Harry right now and he’s not going to deny it, he’s not even going to try.

“Liam, this is Zayn, did you see the news?”

The vice still rings nothing but the name it does, it pulls him right out of his trance and he’s off the couch in no time as Zayn continues to talk to him once he answers back. He’s just, he’s—he’s a lot of things right now, he doesn’t know what exactly would fit at the moment.

Calm, shocked, and scared— a jumble of emotions that don’t sit well in his stomach. All he can swallow from what Zayn’s telling him is to come over and then the address that he’s not even sure he understood well, but Harry’s back in London it seems. Harry’s in London, in England and Zayn’s currently on a tour so he can’t reach him and Harry’s family doesn’t live in London, Liam knows that.

There are other words too, like “I know this is hard for you but—“

“No, no I’ll go.” But nothing Liam thinks, shaking his head, he has to go.

###

Niall ends up driving, there’s no words exchanged during the whole trip because Liam doesn’t think he can talk and Niall’s an angel as usual, reading him better than anyone else can. Giving him furtive glances at times, Liam catches it once and can’t even give a reassuring smile, all he feels is stiff now.

When they do get to the hospital, Liam almost doesn’t step out of the car. If not for Niall—again, he most likely would have driven back home. He gets out though and tucks his hand in his pockets then braces himself for what’s to come. Liam’s honestly grateful for not being that known in the more popular industry as of now because he can at least lower his head and walk to the reception without any of the paparazzi sitting or standing around noticing him.

Although when he does mention Harry’s name some of them perk up, and start paying attention to him. But the nurse behind the counter does it quietly and then announces that only one person is allowed inside and that only family’s allowed.

Liam swallows and looks around, fidgeting, he catches sight of Harry’s bodyguards when he looks to his left, coming towards him. Niall’s already sitting and waiting, not after letting Liam know that he’s going to be waiting.

“He’s family.” The bodyguard says once he’s close enough to the receptionist and Liam’s sure he’s never seen him before. Harry’s never really had any of them around when they were together, although, maybe they might know him from when they had to take the car and at the training camp, he did remember a few of them having to follow them to the restaurant.

All Liam does while the nurse is making sure that the rules are followed before allowing him inside is think about Harry. Think, until at one point when she ends up blurting out that, “I’m sorry but I need to know what kind of family you are to him, brother, cousin?”

Liam opens his mouth and almost lets it slip out, what they were—not what they are, he’s just feeling damn worried now. Worried and restless and it’s a good thing the bodyguard steps in and grabs his arm to tug him away before he can say anything.

“Cousin.” Liam hears him say without even stopping to give more details or listen further to what she has to say. It’s another good thing they do it quickly because the moment Liam’s allowed past the line of bodyguards around the area where Harry’s room most likely is, the reporters too start standing up and following him.

There are a few flashes and voices raising, questions—asking who he is, how Harry is, what Harry condition is at the moment. The bodyguard just ignores them all and Liam keeps his head lowered so he can be guided inside of the room as quickly as possible. He just—he wants it to be quick at first, so fast that once he’s inside and the man who led him to it leaves him alone—he suddenly comes to a halt.

Suddenly not sure anymore.

He stands there for a few seconds, then starts taking small steps towards the bed where Harry’s lying down, looking like he’s sleeping and Liam—Liam hasn’t seen him for months. It’s a bit eerie, everything’s white, there’s the steady bip of the machine that’s meant to show that Harry’s breathing, that he’s alive but there’s also a needle on his arm.

There’s too many things all at once. There’s Harry motionless in a way that Liam’s never seen him aside from when he was sleeping and this is not the same thing, definitely not. Harry looks tired and there’s what looks like stitches above his eyebrow, that twitches a bit and Liam’s hand is out of his pocket before he can stop himself.

It’s only then that he notices how close the small steps took him to the bed, when he sees his hand hovering above Harry’s face, palm almost touching his forehead before he stills. He also realises that Harry’s head did not move before his hand, it was the other way round. Liam lets his hand fall and hides it back inside of the pocket of his jacket.

He’s not sure he should touch anything, but at the same time he’s not sure where to touch. Harry’s hair that’s grown so much that it falls over his eyes but at this moment just falls against the pillow and bangs that are pushed away from his forehead.

Or maybe his hand, the one that’s not linked to a needle and just lying there at his side where Liam’s looking at it. He doesn’t know, he’s not sure, all it does is rise this bile in his throat that’s suddenly hard to swallow so instead he looks around for a chair and tugs one, thankful it’s high enough that he can just—look at Harry without having to stand up.

He’s settle and once he is, he opens his mouth and wants to speak but all he does manage is too soft and broken and ends up in a cracked breath of air that puffs out. It becomes easier when he shifts closer with his chair but with his body as well, and bites away the next choked sound that almost escapes him, looking away when tears threaten to fall as well.

It gets easy to reach out until he’s lifting Harry’s hand and holding it with both of his, one atop one under. Because Liam’s crying, he’s just letting it out and as he does he wants to touch and know that this is real but at the same time he wishes it isn’t because Harry’s not responding.

Not really, his hand feels cold just squeezed in between his own. There’s nothing returned, not even a small flinch.

Liam settles on not saying anything, he can’t say anything anyway. All he feels like doing is letting these tears fall out, though he wipes them away quickly to return his hand back on Harry’s, wants to warm it up again. But what he can’t say, he can think it. He hopes just thinking it will do this time, because he really can’t start to voice it out, it’ll feel too real if he does.

So he thinks it hard enough, harder than the last time.

_Don’t go._

###

It’s his phone that wakes him up, he’s not even sure when he fell asleep. But the feeling of it vibrating in his pocket as hi blinking his eyes open and shifting the chair. Liam straightens and makes to get it, opens up with Niall’s name showing on the screen, a message that informs him that Niall went to get something to eat.

He totally forgot Niall was still there too. He’s not sure for how long he’s been out, but it must have been awhile if Niall’s getting something to eat. Although the light that’s slipping past the closed curtain and reaching the white sheets of the bed tells him that it would most likely be breakfast time at the very least.

He stretches out, because falling asleep on a chair was not a good idea—will never be. For a moment there’s just this sense of not quite knowing what he’s doing here although there’s a vague memory of why, but it only licks in when he tries to move one of his hands and realises that another tug makes it impossible to move it.

It downs on him then and he remembers what he’s doing here, where this is, who’s lying down there most importantly but Liam keeps his eyes on his hand still held—this time firmer than how it was when he first had a hold of Harry’s. He makes to tug it away again and watches Harry’s hand just clasp his and squeeze tighter.

This, this right here is what Liam should have thought about when he agreed and ran here like everything was fine between them. The after Harry woke up what the hell would he do then part, he should have thought about it long and hard before coming over and holding his hand and crying on his bed sheets and just all over freaking out.

At least he wouldn’t want to shrink away if he was prepared to what to do if Harry’s awake—when Harry’s awake. But now there’s no backing out of it. He’s sure Harry’s awake, from the way the air around him is shifting a little and also the small intake of breath he hears more than catches because he’s not going to look.

Liam refuses to even take a single look.

Harry must know, has to know—because Niall’s not the only one who knows Liam like the back of his hand, Harry too does. Harry does best. Better than Niall. Harry’s hand tugs his again and Liam’s heart swells just a little at the reminder that Harry knows him best, sight getting blurry with the will and the need to give the squeeze back and he does. But that’s all he can do, he feels glued to his chair.

It’s all a little bit too ridiculously intense and the tension is not heavy just there, sitting in the way Liam refuses to look at Harry and Harry’s thumb starts brushing against the back of Liam’s hand.

Liam expects a question, he almost wants Harry to ask the question because then he will have to answer and an answer he definitely has.

“You’re here.” But when that’s all Harry says, voice hoarse, he doesn’t know what to reply to that. But he figures he might as well look at Harry now, even if he’s not ready, so he’s a million of times grateful when he does so and finds Harry’s eyes aren’t focused on him either but rather looking down at their hands.

If anything it makes Liam’s shoulder slump a little, relaxing. Not because he’s done it, but because, ironically enough Harry looks up and Liam’s just suddenly overcome with relief at the realisation that Harry’s fine.

Harry’s fine and he might not look quite like the Harry Liam knew, the one who left. But Harry’s alright and he’s looking at Liam like he’s waiting for something, there’s just that hopeful gaze he wears at times when he wants something and he’s not sure he wants it and Liam’s missed this in general.

Knowing who Harry is.

He can’t be blamed for the tears anymore, not at all, they just, they come easily even if it’s not because he’s quite sad, maybe bitter sweet. But he’s smiling around the first trail that manage to fall down. He rolls his eyes a little, not purposely so, just—it comes and he does then he lets out an airy laugh.

“I’m here.” He’s not sure if that’s the answer Harry wants but it seems to be enough, it seems to do the trick. Liam’s not sure what trick it does, but it changes Harry’s hold on his hand from a firm one to one that’s looking to fit their fingers together and Liam just wants to scream at Harry to stop.

But all he does let out is another airy laugh, a bit choked and he gives into Harry’s probing, lets his fingers fall right between the spaces of Harry’s and finds his next words are easier to be let out.

“Harry, I—”

But they’re cut short by the noise of a flash. Liam turns his head but regrets it the moment the flash just goes right in his eyes. It’s a matter of time before the door’s burst open too, Liam would have question how they just knew but Harry’s trying to sit up and holding up what looks like an emergency buzzer and that explains a bit but he’s swamped in a lot of other flashes that are cause by the fact that the doors are open and the bodyguards are trying to get rid of the paparazzi by the window.

Therefore, quick conclusion, the ones outside of the door are taking advantage.

It’s a commotion, where Liam feels something pull away and he looks down to see Harry’s hand retracting and he’s not sure why he does it. Seriously, Liam’s not sure, maybe it’s because he’s just gone through the thought that Harry might be dying, or that he might lose him before he even had the time to tell him everything that he wants to say—still wants to say.

But he doesn’t let go.

Harry’s head snaps and he’s frowning at Liam like he doesn’t understand there’s just a lot of noises but Liam doesn’t care not when Harry’s looking this lost and it’s all endearingly familiar. This sense of belonging, knowing, being allowed to, it’s liberating and he tightens his hold on Harry’s hand, gives him a tentative smile and a shrug of his shoulder.

It’s meant to be nonchalant, but Harry must sense all the nerves that Liam’s going through right now because he links his fingers back to Liam’s as if silently telling him that he understands. Liam’s not sure what he understands but Harry’s wearing that look that says he does so Liam understands too, a silent pact, agreement and that’s all it takes.

###

Liam’s left trying to assimilate what just happened once the commotion dies. But the silence is mostly due to the fact that the windows are closed, the door’s locked and the men have made sure that no one could get not even a centimetre close to the entrance alley of the room where Harry is at the moment.

Not that he went to see what it looks like, he’s not even sure he wants to step out of here. Niall’s been texting him with exclamations points flying everywhere too and Liam knows he’s gone and done it. He’s done what he always thought he would never ever be ready to do, and he should feel nervous or like suffocating at the moment but all he feels is oddly still and exhilarated.

Actually no, there’s no describing how he feels. He’s trying to and failing though because Harry's not being quiet by his side, Harry who insisted on Liam getting so close he had to lie down next to him on this narrow bed. VIP treatment or not, hospitals’ beds would always be narrow didn’t matter how big the room is as well it seems. 

Not that he minds, but when he’s trying to think of how he got himself in this situation when a week ago everything seemed to be going well and Harry’s toes are trying to play a sort of game with Liam’s. It’s a bit unnerving and Liam’s groaning before he can stop himself.

He makes to talk but then it is Harry’s hand in his that does it next and Liam’s reminded of why exactly he’s here why everything’s upside down in a way that it knocks the breath out of him. Harry’s still cold, still doesn’t feel as warm as Liam remembers him to be, but truth was Harry’s the one who always sought warmth, used to say that Liam was like a furnace.

He wonders if it’s still the same.

“I’m fine.” Harry says and his breath brushing against Liam’s shoulder reminds him of how close they are, a contrast to how far away he’d felt all these months. It’s all a bit too much to assimilate so Liam’s going to ignore the distance, he’s going to marvel in what he has at the moment and just forget the distance ever happened. Once he settles for that idea, he seems to literally melt against Harry’s side and it’s like Harry knows whatever internal battle Liam had it’s gone for now at least.

If the little sigh of contentment he lets out is anything to go by and the way he just buries his nose a little more against Liam’s neck and rests his chin on Liam’s shoulder and then stills there while Liam turns just enough so that he’s on his side and he can get his arms around Harry.

It’s an awkward manoeuvre that he has to be careful with doing because Harry’s still linked to a beeping machine and a needle is still in his other hand and he can’t quite turn on his side. But they manage and once they do, Liam’s nose finds itself against Harry’s curly, soft and longer than he remembers them and a breathy laugh leaves him.

“Why is your hair so long?” Seems to be the only thing Liam can say, he could almost laugh at himself but Harry does it for the both of them and Liam’s left to just relish in hearing it again. Harry laughing at him because of him, a replacement for the word, silly Liam, he knows this Liam. He wants to keep it, because as much as he’s dreamt of having this back on the first few days and would even at times feel as if it was still there, not quite gone.

Truth is, it probably never ever left, the feeling that Harry’s always everywhere he went.

“Because yours is always short.”

Liam’s ready to answer that it’s a stupid reason but it’s true, his own hair is always short but it’s more for practical reason like not having to take care of it during a game and it’s easier to wash as well. He also finds he runs well when he doesn’t have any weight on his head, a sense of freedom that comes with cutting it anytime any strand wants to go further.

“So it balances.” Harry adds to the silence that follows suit and Liam swallows a little, the words stuck in his throat. Because as far as he knows, it’s been months and he’s been able to see how Harry changed through pictures but how does Harry sound so sure that Liam’s never let his hair grow?

Even when he didn’t have the motivation for anything else, he still found it in himself to actually cut his hair, as if it was a necessity in a sense it is. Something he started after he left high school too. But there’s also the fact that Harry didn’t cut his hair the moment they broke up, just let it grow and grow—as if he was waiting.

As if maybe Liam’s not the only one who still held that bit of hope.

Hope he wasn’t even aware he still had until now. Because repressing is something he does so well sometimes, it’s infuriating for himself and most likely for anyone he’s ever done this to. Made them to wait for something that he most likely had to deal with on his own. Something he has to come on terms with by himself, so he can hit himself and finally go, this is it, this is what he needed to fix.

He’s not sure how he manages to figure it out but he does, right then, and maybe he did when he saw Harry lying motionless in this bed. Or maybe he did when he saw Louis again and felt nothing but an odd familiarity, a nostalgic one that made him want to reach out and fix what was left to fix what could be salvaged. There’s this sudden settling feeling in his stomach that everything’s just that easy.

He needs to know what he wants, what is more important and in that moment Liam’s sure of what it is.

“I’m sorry.” He’s ready to ask for forgiveness and not feel like he’s lowering himself by doing so, “I was ready, y’know, I was, I am but I got scared.” He has to laugh at that because he’s always been the first to accuse Harry of being scared but all along, all this time Liam’s the one who was scared not Harry.

Harry’s pulling out of his hold and Liam wants to protest but he lets him go and waits till Harry’s facing him to try to say more. Though Harry’s eyes don’t quite give him the time to say anything, it’s more of a choke.

“I really, thought you were just going to—I mean, you left and I know you left that time and it’s maybe the same thing but it’s not, you leaving this way when I haven’t said it yet.” He’s not even sure of what he’s saying. Or what he’s trying to say but he know he’s getting somewhere, wants Harry to know he’s getting somewhere.

“It was my fault too,” Harry joins in his rambles and Liam’s mouth purses around words he can’t quite get out. His breath getting caught because this is the topic that he’s not sure where it will lead them, he somehow has a feeling he knows what Harry wants to say but he also needs to hear it, wants to hear it so he can let go of that and stop blaming that for being scared.

“There was no one else, with you or after you.” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind though, Liam thinks he knew that. He just wanted to hold onto that back then because it was easier to end it because of that instead of not giving Harry what he knew Harry wanted. Or acting like it was just Harry who wanted it when Liam too wanted the same thing.

But even then there’s also the fact that Harry could be damn stubborn at times, it’s a mix of a lot of things and it makes him hit Harry’s arm a little because Liam’s at fault. But it’s Harry’s fault for just coming in and shaking everything Liam had built to actually stop this from happening in the first place.

“You absolute twat, do you know how much, how many—I just really,” Yes, Liam’s ignoring Harry’s wince and still hitting him lightly again but that’s the last one, “I love you, do you get that?” It’s out in a breath and once it is, it just covers any other sound in the room aside from the annoying beeping that’ll never be covered, but it’s dull.

If anything, Liam can hear the way he stops breathing and feel Harry’s heart only—but that might be because Harry’s brought their still linked hands to his chest and Liam’s relieved he can feel it beat in a more jumbled rhythm than his own.  

He’s also glad the heat that’s rising to his face is not foreign to Harry’s, but matching it as well and that Harry’s more at a loss of what to say than he is. Because it means Harry must have doubted it, and that fact shouldn’t make him happy but it does, it means Liam’s not the only one who needs the words to know that the words are meaningful.

It’s a bit silly and he’s going to mention it but Harry doesn’t leave him the time to do so, catching Liam off guard and kissing him before anything else can spill out of his mouth. Liam realises that they’ve been doing a lot of things as if it was just natural, as if they hadn’t broken up months ago, a lot of things he’s missed. Talking to Harry, touching Harry, hearing Harry laugh but this is what he’s missed the most.

There’s what comes after this, the physical aspect of it too, but more than anything he’s missed kissing Harry. Because Harry kisses so slowly and at times a bit too slow for Liam’s liking. As surprising as it is, Harry likes taking his time, teasing before giving anything and Liam’s the one who rushes them at times. But he’s content with letting this pace, letting Harry take his time and letting nothing but their mouths touch, find out how to fit again like they never lost to begin with.

Which they never lost it, maybe took a break, but lost their ways but never lost the way they fit and Liam’s sighing against Harry’s mouth. Mirroring the smile that he feels on Harry’s mouth and dragging his mouth to the corner of Harry’s lips with an open mouthed kiss.

“I know, I knew, I’m sorry I left.”

Liam shakes his head, because the leaving part. He made it happen, he’s the one to blame for that. But Harry’s still trying to kiss him and that—he’s not going to stop him from doing so because he wants to make a point. If anything, Harry can kiss all the words out of him if he wants to, or needs to. He doesn’t mind, would never mind so he just gives in, maybe they can talk later.

Besides, he’s going to have to leave soon. Because as much as he wants to stay here and forget he has responsibilities outside of this room that don’t involve lying side to side with Harry and possibly kissing him until he forgets what it feels like to not breathe at the same time as Harry does.

So later, they can definitely talk about everything else later.

###

It spreads like wildfire.

It must be because of the combination, a football player with an actor, odd pairing. Niall doesn’t shut up about it too, although he mocks Liam for everything more than anything else and let’s just say—Liam’s always been afraid of how his team mates would accept the news but he’s surprised when most of them just don’t seem fazed by it at all.

They don’t treat him differently, they even join in some of Niall’s teasing. But it’s luck, he knows he’s just lucky, it’s not because he’s Liam Payne, one of the best players of the team, no, it’s just because he’s lucky. Not everyone has this luck so instead of questioning it, he acts annoyed at some of the jesting and lets a wave of relief wash over him.

What he doesn’t expect is for Louis to be the one who is bitter about this, but then Liam thinks about the circumstance and has to give it to him. He understands. This is why they broke up, because Liam said he wasn’t ready then and he can’t begin to even understand how Louis must feel even if he’s certain there’s nothing of what they had before.

But Liam would be bitter too, he knows the feeling because soon after Louis and he broke up, he’d gone to someone who wasn’t too keen on hiding his sexuality. As if wanting to shove it in Liam’s face. That night, Liam ended up texting Harry and asking him out for the first time instead of the other way round.

So Louis is avoiding him for the whole week, flashes are following him wherever he goes and he’s forced to desert his flat for a while and go where Harry’s agent tells him to. Which turns out to be a quiet place that Harry sometimes took him to when he wanted to change their location. Harry’s still held in the hospital though, out of danger but the accident did cause some injuries that needed to heal properly.

Liam visits as much as he can but he also still has his try outs for the Manchester club to do and he’s going to have to give it his best considering the scandal he’s wrapped in. He knows it. He has to make them see the player, not the man on every gossip magazines that is going out with another man. But a closeted football player that just came out, but a football player who is in this to win himself a place, to pursue a dream and make them look past his personal life.

Although it’s going to be hard he tells himself. Niall tries to tell him that they probably don’t even read those things but Liam can only think about the ended career of a player because of this same issue and all he wants to do is run. He’s not regretting it, he’s just scared of what will come with it.

But even running doesn’t settle the fear this time. If anything it just reinforces it. It might be because he’s doing it alone, the day before he has to pass the test and he’s suddenly too aware of every weakness that he has. He kept worrying about the personal side but if the professional side isn’t on point as well, then it will all be for nothing. Of course he can try again later, but they chose him this time, he didn’t go to them.

If he has to go to them it will cost him more. This is a recommendation by his coach that got him there and he has to prove himself. He’s so strung on doing so, not disappointing, he’s certain he’s not going to be able to fall asleep.

If he doesn’t get any sleep, he’s most likely going to end up not being able to give his best. It’s not just fear now, it’s nearing desperation. He looks up from a pause in his jog to realise that he’s reached the hospital. He’s not even sure how or why—but then again maybe he knows how or why. He stops in front of the building and it’s night and dark outside which might be why there isn’t any reporters at all.

Or maybe they just found their next news feed and thus don’t need to feed off Harry’s life anymore. But they’ve grown less and less over the week. Liam decides without even hesitating that since he’s here, he will just go in and he does. He’s not sure he wants Harry to see him in this state though so he hesitates once he’s past the receptionist but then he must be noticed because one of the nurses comes to him and makes him stop in one of his retreat.

“He’s not asleep you can go in anytime you want.” She sounds sweet and she has this smile on like she’s encouraging him, which is such a wrong thing to do. She just sense his uneasiness though because next thing he knows she’s tapping his arm lightly and giving him a sheepish look, “Come on, I’m sure he misses you, it’s all adorable all of this even if it put our hospital in quite a state for a while.”

A while being a whole week Liam corrects in his head, following her even though he’s still not sure this is a good idea. He’s never let Harry know about how really worried he was about anything. Being accepted in the club, being accepted for who he is, there are so many things Liam just doesn’t like to show. His insecurities he would rather keep them for himself.

The thing is though, he knows the instant he steps inside—which he has to because she’s clearly opening the door after knocking. He’s not even sure when she knocked but apparently she did, but all Liam caught somewhere in his adrift mind was Harry’s voice allowing them to come in.

The thing is, he goes on, is that the instant Harry takes a look at him he’ll know there’s something wrong even if Liam doesn’t want to say it. Harry will know and that makes him more nervous—thankful at least when the nurse leaves them, arching her eyebrows at him as she walks past and out of the room closing the door behind her.

Liam supposes the eyebrows are due to a Harry that’s sitting crossed legged on the bed with what looks like a script on his lap—and this is a first. Liam’s not even sure how he’s never caught Harry memorising his lines, but he’s certain that this is the first time he’s ever had this sight. Harry never brought work with him, it was one of the thing that just came easily, naturally and Liam never questioned.

At times he did want to know, what made Harry so known, reason why he has a collection of Harry’s movies. Three years in the industry, that’s what made Harry everyone’s most cherished British actor. It’s impressive, because he’s started so young, Liam’s not sure how Harry manages it all.

The world, the cameras and the expectations. At times he really hates how Harry handles it all effortlessly—or seems to at least. He doesn’t bother taking Harry out of what he’s doing, just taking a few steps closer to the bed, he’s sure by now that Harry knows someone’s in the room, he’s not sure Harry knows it’s Liam though.

It gives him some time to take a better look at Harry, relieved that there seems to be an improvement at least when it comes to his weight. Harry doesn’t mention it at all, but there’s been a point in his career where all the people thought about criticising was his weight which made it problematic for him back then. Not that Liam asked-not to Harry at least, Zayn wasn’t just here to call Liam in case of emergencies.

Even though Zayn and Liam barely ever talked, but the one time they met, they’d talked about enough of Harry’s life for Liam to be convinced this was one of the reasons why he even started considering the idea of actually being with Harry. In a relationship. Something more than just passing by his flat and then leaving in the morning with kisses that seemed to just make him want to keep Harry for a bit longer.

Maybe Liam’s been blaming the wrong person all along, it makes him snicker a little to himself. But the sound must be recognisable, or loud enough to pull Harry out of his concentration because he’s looking up and Liam has to admit—he knows what people sees in Harry the actor. The one behind the screen, the one that always looks like he’s loving every second of what he does, the one that looks like he puts every inch of his soul into every character he makes and yet still isn’t that character.

It’s a bit breath taking, his eyebrows drawn in together, face tight in what was his concentration. It’s just for a second barely even but Liam keeps the image in his head, doesn’t want to let it go. Not even when Harry’s features soften a little and he also looks a little startled, then sheepish before folding the script still in his hand and putting it on the side.

Liam stands by the bed with no idea what to do with his hands or legs, he doesn’t move at all. It's more than just a little awkward, he’s got words but they’re kind of stuck in the back of his throat and they won’t form properly at the tip of his tongue. So he fidgets. He keeps his hands in his pockets and fidgets in this silence until he hears shuffling, rustling of sheets and keeps his eyes on Harry scooting away and at the space that’s left next to him.

Liam doesn’t hesitate to take the invitation. He forgot about this, about what Harry would do if he knew. Harry too, doesn’t ask, unless he feels Liam relaxed enough to talk about it. Liam can’t help it, really, as he just lets himself lie down next to Harry but keeping his eyes up at the ceiling, that his heart just swells a bit more in his chest.

He can’t help the warmth as well, especially when he feels Harry search for his hand that he gives to him without hesitating then everything unfolds. Liam’s limbs start to just loosen, his shoulders slumping a little—with relief and a gentle probing against the barrier where his thoughts were swirling.

Before he knows it, Harry’s done it. He’s got Liam all lax and pliant and it’s brilliant, Liam doesn’t even have to use any words. He does let out a soft chuckle when he feels Harry’s lips against the back of his hand and only then turns to find Harry looking at him with a small intimate smile.

One that seems to only be for Liam, Liam’s convinced of it, Liam’s missed it.

“I have try outs tomorrow.” Maybe that’s why he blurts that out, with a voice he thought would shake around some of the words but his tone is steady. It surprises him, but that doesn’t show. Liam keeps his eyes down at where Harry’s thumb is stroking the back of his hand and tugging on his bottom lip with his front teeth before he can add something else. He knows Harry’s waiting for the rest.

“I don’t want them to say no.” That’s not it Liam—that’s not—but fuck maybe that’s exactly it. He doesn’t want to be told that he can’t follow down that path. He wants this so bad, he just—wow he just wasn’t aware and now it’s hitting him and it’s all Harry’s fault. Because he has to blame it on someone or something, it can’t be Liam’s. Liam just figured that little detail out.

He doesn’t want to be told no—he doesn’t want it because then he might resent this, might resent the newspaper with his name on it. The huge titles that still up to this day show with his face and Harry’s pictures as well, some of them have him in his current team’s jersey.

All Liam keeps thinking about is the scandal with the other player. That’s all that’s playing in his head, the images aren’t pretty either. Harry gives his hand a squeeze, it’s tight and when Liam looks at him he has this face where he isn’t sure he has to say something and Liam feels bad all over again.

It’s not Harry’s fault, he shouldn’t be dragging him into this. The thought kicks in and it’s instinct for him to want to pull away, with his hand and keep the physical contact to a minimum but Harry holds on again and tugs him back.

“Don’t let them say no then,” Harry starts and Liam doesn’t want to hear it, not anymore.

“It’s not that easy, it’s sports Harry. They don’t take to this kindly, of course different countries different values and we’re more advanced, more accepting in this century but I am who I am.” Liam looks up then and holds Harry’s gaze without looking down, he wants Harry to know he’s not ashamed, not at all, he’s just scared he will be if it ends that way. He’s scared that he’ll close down if they tell him no.

He’ll want to blame it on something, someone and Liam knows Harry will be an easy target then.

“I’m _Style’s’ Pain._ ” Liam cracks it through the heavy feeling that’s settling in the room, he can’t help it, the title came into his mind and it’s such a random thought that when it slips out Harry looks like he’s not sure if to laugh or flick Liam.

But then it gets funnier, somehow, he’s not even sure how. Maybe because he’s catching the way Harry’s trying not to laugh too and Liam tries, really, but he can’t hold it in. It starts with soft hushed chuckles then blooms into a full laugh, he’s shaking his head at himself too.

“I am not sure where they take their titles from.” He adds while trying to not laugh and cry at the same time, seriously.

“They won’t say no.” Harry answers instead and Liam takes a breath in, he doesn’t want to fight Harry’s words. So he just lets himself nod in agreement. When Harry smiles and leans up to press a kiss to his forehead he scrunches his nose slightly and returns it when Harry lies back down.

Then it just starts this giving and receiving kisses, when Harry grins a little and goes for the tip of his nose and afterwards leans in eyes closed and waits for Liam to do the same. Then each eyelids and the corner of his mouth and his cheeks, so ridiculously soft that Liam’s laughing by the time Harry gets to his mouth, with just a quick peck that has him not even letting Harry wait for the returned favour and leaning in to complete the circle.

As softly as Harry did at first, as quick too, then slowly and still soft but more daring, his teeth sinking in Harry’s bottom lip and lips curling around a smile at the sound that pulls out of Harry. Liam’s other hands find Harry’s and he’s chuckling against Harry’s mouth then kissing him again, pushing and pushing until he has Harry on his back and his legs straddling Harry, linked hands pushed back at each side of Harry’s head.

“When are you coming back home?” Liam mouths when he can, when Harry lets go of his mouth, barely a second though. He lets himself lean on his elbows instead when Harry’s hands slip free from his grip and settle at his waist, sliding under his jacket and shirt, pressing his palms against Liam’s skin.

Harry’s mouth leaves his and Liam takes in a breath, waiting for the words he’s trying to trace on Liam’s skin.

 _I’m already home_.

It wanders, down his throat and Liam arches a little with a soft whine leaving him, they shouldn’t be doing this. Not in a hospital, when Harry’s still healing—where a nurse can come in anytime.

One of Harry’s hands is slipping past the waist of his trousers though and shuts down the rest of his thoughts, if anything it only has him letting Harry’s name out, with his mouth pressed against Harry’s ear where Liam ends up sinking his teeth as well. He’s not getting out of here with being the only flustered or bothered one sporting an erection on top of it.

But then it clicks in that if they start this right now—they won’t be able to stop, not now and Liam—well Liam still has the try outs to do tomorrow so he quickly sits up and definitely does not let Harry follow suit.

“Seriously, when are you coming _home_?” He repeats, ignoring what Harry said before because seriously, how ridiculously gross does Harry have to be with all of this cheesy stuff. Liam’s had enough embarrassment to last him for an eternity within a year, it’s why he’s used to it. Why it doesn’t get him all flustered anymore—maybe.

Liam gets a hold of Harry’s wrist where his hands are still trying to somehow distract Liam out of talking. It’s not going to work, not even with how badly he just wants to lean back—because Harry looks like he’s been kissing Liam thoroughly so and knowing that he can get this look on Harry has always made him lose more than just a bit of control.

Harry sighs a little and looks like he’s about to sulk but then he rolls his eyes and gives an answer, “You’re at the flat, mine’s, right?”

That has Liam arching both eyebrows up because this is news, well of course it would belong to Harry. But it’s the first time he’s heard him actually say it is his.

“Yours as in, it’s yours, that’s where you live or yours as in you own it?” But then again he never asked, so he does now and watches Harry look at him with a small frown before nodding.

“Yeah, mine, that’s where I live.” And Liam, he’s not sure why but this is big. He just always thought Harry was taking him to some sort of secret hideout not his actual place. It’s also huge because Liam’s always figured Harry was hiding them too but—but the more he’s learning the more he’s realising that all this entire time the ball was in his hands.

It’s such a big discovery that he really, really can’t be blamed for letting Harry’s hands free to do whatever they wished and choosing to lean in and do what he does best. Return the hazard looks Harry gives him, ten times worse—ten kisses worse, or more. More and it’s fine if they don’t stop, they’ve stopped for too long.

###

It’s eight in the morning. It’s time and Liam’s not sure when he even fell asleep. Because he stayed with Harry, and they talked and kissed amongst other things a lot of other things that have him ducking his head low as he jogs around the field. They were back, they are definitely back—the symptoms of living this for the first time all over again.

Before he can ponder on it though he hears footsteps and turns to find a smiling man approaching him with two other behind him. Liam barely has the time to catch someone else that’s leaving behind them—though he’s sure he recognizes Louis’ back.

He doesn’t question, can’t. Because he has to impress now, doesn’t he?

###

Niall’s the first one to ask and Liam doesn’t have any answers. Because Niall’s asking him over the phone, merely ten minutes after he’s done and they told him they would reach out to him to tell him about the details if he was accepted.

“ _That’s all? They’ll call? And they just leave you hanging like that?!_ ” But Niall has to sound like it’s the end of the world of course. Well, it’s Manchester United, one of the biggest clubs in the world. Not just in England, so Liam can just laugh a little and put the phone away when Niall’s voice gets too loud as he rants a bit about not being patient at all.

“You know that’s how it works with any team right?” Liam answers, trying to focus on both talking to Niall and finishing what he’s doing right now. Making up anything that could sit in his stomach, he’s starving. It’s a good thing he knows his way around the neighbourhood as well as Harry’s kitchen.

Now that he knows this is Harry’s kitchen, and that everything here belongs to Harry, in a way that no one but Harry’s ever been here. Harry and Liam and the people that work for or with Harry. No interview held in this place, no other—wait. Liam freezes a little with the bottle of oil that he just opened—other lovers is what he can’t end because he doesn’t know that either.

Liam never talks about Louis and Harry never asks, never did. So Liam of course would return the favour and not ask about any of Harry’s past lovers, it is hard to actually ask about it though because most of Harry’s personal life’s sort of put out for the whole world to criticise. Liam didn’t want to be part of those people who were always looking for information, wanting to feed off whatever they could get out of Harry, still doesn’t want to.

But there’s a bitter bile sitting in his throat and he has to get it out.

He should have hesitated, after he poured the oil in the frying pan and hung up with Niall, he should have hesitated to grab his phone and click on Harry’s name then quickly type out the question, tongue burning, but chest tightening with what the answer could be.

Then mind swirling with doubt, does he have to do this? It’s ridiculous, he’s definitely not the jealous type. Except like Niall said last time—Harry’s got him doing things Liam actually never thought he’d find himself doing one day.

[ text _: just how many people have you brought home?_ ]

The thing is though—Liam regrets it the moment it’s send. He wants to burry himself the more he reads and rereads the message. He’s acting like a teenager, he’s not even sure this is teenager level. He’s out of his mind, he hasn’t done this in a while. Hell, he hasn’t done this with anyone else but Harry so he’s rusty, he’s more than rusty, he’s stuck and he’s so fucking awfully ashamed of what he just did.

He doesn’t have the time to whine about it for too long, because his phone is vibrating next to the stove a few minutes later. Liam almost knocks the frying pan—that’s hot and contains hot oil seriously—and everything else that’s in his hand in the process of getting it.

[ text: _one in a million_. ]

Liam’s not always appreciative of Harry’s words when he uses them to sound—sweet. It gets stuck in his throat most of the times. But this time—it just relieves him beyond words then he’s just smiling to himself and then shaking his head quickly, fighting the urge to hit his own head with the spatula in his hand. He’s not going to do that.

That would be a next level of silliness.

He gets another message right after, Liam wants to worry about burning the oil and what’s frying at the same time.

[ text: _what are you cooking?_ ]

But he can’t, not really. He’s shuffling out of the kitchen, spatula still in hand and frowning instantly, because unlike what he thought for a second, Harry’s not here. Of course he’s not there, he would have heard it if he was. Would have heard him open the door with the usual alarm’s beeping sound that goes on and on until the password is put in. So it was a silly thought really.

So he turns back on his heels, though he doesn’t get very far. Knocks right into something he thinks is a wall—but finds a bit too soft to be a wall, also too noisy since it also winces a little and Liam blinks when he’s staring at Harry holding a hand against his nose.

“What are you doing here?!” Waving spatula and still feeling the pain from the collision Liam might shout that a little more annoyingly than actually surprisingly. It has Harry laughing a little anyway, shrugging a shoulder.

“Staying home?”

Liam blinks a few times and then looks behind Harry to where he can see the bedroom’s door open.

“Were you there—the whole time?”

Harry just nods with a sheepish expression Liam rarely sees on his face and then before Liam can say anything else he’s leaning in.

“Yes, from the second you entered and yes I heard everything you were talking about with Niall.” Harry’s pulling back then, not without kissing Liam’s open mouth and rounding him to get to the kitchen, to what Liam’s doing.

Liam backtracks the conversation he had with Niall, he can’t remember saying anything that would put him in a bad light. But then something clicks in about Harry—and his cooking and the things Liam missed because Niall’s sort of his secrets keeper and these are secrets for a reason.

A reason so strong he’s willing to kill Harry for listening on them.

“Harry Styles!”

Though the moment Harry catches on that Liam’s not happy about it, he’s already running out of reach. Liam's winning this though, no way is he losing a chase, against Harry nonetheless. Harry who can barely run for ten minutes without crying mercy. Harry who just got out of a car accident—unscathed but still a little hurt.

So Liam should slow down, maybe—but maybe not. He doesn’t slow down. It’s a chase through the apartment and all it ends up doing is knocking Liam down on the couch with Harry’s weight falling back on him because of the arm Liam’s got tight around him. It occurs to him then that he should really let go of the spatula but it leaves his grip and falls on the ground on its own accord.

“I just came out of the hospital, I’ll let you know.” Harry whines a little when Liam’s the one who received all the damages he’s pretty certain of this. It makes him laugh with Harry’s back pressed to his chest, Liam’s arm tight around his middle and Harry’s untied hair in the run they just had brushing against his throat when Harry leans his head back. 

It’s a quiet moment and Liam lets himself breathe it in, because it’s a moment away from other’s prying eyes. He hasn’t let himself last on it, or think about it. But the news haven’t stopped in the magazines, seeing his face is still a little weird. His mum has even called him to ask him if he was alright, if this whole thing wasn’t affecting him.

She always worries though and Liam always has to reassure her. Makes sure to at least, so that the whole family doesn’t end up being worried for him. They’ve been from the start, supporting but worried. There’s one thing he’s relieved about though, it’s that she hasn’t found out about him through the words of others, that she knew, that they all knew before he left.

Even if the way they ended up finding out had been filled with awkward silence, a much younger Liam trying his best and flailing to not flush under the gaze of his mother who’d just found him kissing another boy on her couch.

It wasn’t even still a thing, as in at that moment, Liam had still been quite unsure of where he stood when it came to his sexuality. Louis—who’d been the one on that couch—had played a role in this, a big one. That last thought has him blinking back to the sound of his name, Harry’s voice the source of it.

Liam’s not sure for how long it lasted, but it must have been for a few minutes. He must have completely zoned in the memories, so he offers an apologetic smile to Harry’s frown that’s directed at him. Harry’s even had the time to shift and roll and find himself facing Liam instead, he must sees that something’s wrong though. Liam watches him hum with what he knows is a considering look, something in between wanting to ask, not knowing if he wants to ask, or should.

Liam doesn’t want him to. Somehow, he just decides he doesn’t want Harry to know that just yet. Harry knows the basics, that Liam was in a bad condition when they met, that Liam just fell out of one bad relationship when they met. That was it. Took Liam as he was, put him back together without even knowing he was, probably without even meaning to.

But Harry did it all, by himself. Something Liam’s not sure he would have even been able to accomplish if he hadn’t met Harry. If he hadn’t had Harry around when he just needed a distraction to forget. Even though the distraction turned out into this thing when at one point Liam had to get distracted away from what he felt for Harry.

Although none of it works, none of it did when they were apart none of it does now. Liam’s also certain he doesn’t want anything to distract him enough to forget what it feels like to have Harry around.

He doesn’t want Harry to ask though because he’s not ready to talk about it, not right now. He just wants more of Harry and Liam, and nothing else. So he settles for cheating, tricking his way into not having any conversations, slotting his mouth on Harry’s when it opens. Harry must catch the meaning behind it, but he doesn’t pull back.

Liam's grateful for that, finds himself mouthing, “Later.” Without even meaning to, it just somehow slips in and he’s glad it did because Harry’s features relax, finally letting go and he’s replying to the kiss properly now. Licking his way inside of Liam’s mouth and catching his tongue against Liam’s bottom lip on his way out.

Harry has a way of kissing him that has Liam flushing quickly, from his neck up to his cheeks, hurting with the heat. This way of doing it like he never has enough of Liam’s taste. As if he wants it all still, and will go in, go back, let Liam take it over, let Liam do the same thing—return the favour. Catch everything that’s Harry, but never fail at doubling it over when he gets the chance to.

It’s never a battle, just an equal sparing that ends up in soft laughter sometimes, breathless noises when they stop to catch their breath. Liam’s eyes lowered, but stealing a glance up at Harry’s face, satisfied with the same flush clinging to Harry’s cheeks, a mirror of his own. Thick and present with the reminder that Liam can do this.

It has him reeling right back in, catching a surprised sound off Harry’s lips, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. So much longer than Liam remembers it, but it’s not a bad thing. Not at all, all of it curls around the back of his hand, warm against his palm—all of it so thick and full where Liam’s grabbing and tugging Harry closer to him. 

Liam’s hit with a lot of things at the same time, the strong urge to just keep kissing Harry until his mouth turns numb from all of it. Or to venture further. But then he’ll have to stop kissing Harry and he doesn’t want to, not yet. It makes him feel better, he wants to find another word to describe this, but this is the best word he can find.

Because there’s the memories of not having this, not even being able to do a simple such as letting his mouth open, lingering, lips close to touching but not touching. This simple sense of having Harry’s palms flat against his stomach where they always manage to slip under his sheet any given times.

The easy smiles that sometimes have Harry ducking low, eyes closing and nose grazing Liam’s neck, his whole face buried there and the way he keeps still like he’s letting go of everything the moment he can breathe Liam in.  Liam’s hand tighten in his hair, the one he has on Harry’s waist gives a squeeze as well, makes Harry squirm, makes him let out a soft chuckle—ticklish.

He wants to repeat it over and over again, that he’s missed Harry. He doesn’t think he needs to though, he’s sure Harry knows by now. He’s sure that he can feel it, or at least doesn’t need Liam’s words. Shouldn’t.

His throat’s tight and then his eyes are heavy and Liam wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this, with Harry’s weight pressing him down into the couch. A couch that was rather uncomfortable—still uncomfortable Liam realises, letting out a soft groan and then pushing Harry off him without paying attention to the whine. It breaks like that, for just a split of second.

When Harry sits up and Liam follows, but Liam follows straight to get to Harry’s mouth again.

“Enough.” Harry’s the one rejecting now, moving away and Liam lets a sigh out but watches him rise off his legs and the couch. Figures he deserves that before standing up as well and following in Harry’s steps. There’s a moment right before they get to the bedroom where Harry turns around, grin against a corner of his mouth and his fingers start tugging at Liam’s shirt, start pulling it up and off his chest and Liam goes in, a soft whine leaving him when Harry’s mouth finds his neck instead of his own.

Lips hanging apart around the letters of Harry's name.

“Can’t just keep kissing you, have loads to catch up on.” He’s mouthing against Liam’s skin, it has him shaking his head, hands against Harry’s side, pushing him away and down on the bed before climbing up on him. They do, of course they do, a lot more than just what Liam wants right now.

A lot more than just what Harry wants right now, what Liam knows Harry means.

“What if I sort of, just, want to kiss you, what if that’s the only thing I missed?” Liam teases, his breath ghosting over Harry’s cheeks, kissing the dimple that draws itself in when Harry smiles before falling back on the bed and staring up at Liam.

Liam who’s waiting for an answer, but not really. His eyes wouldn’t mind just staying this way, looking down at Harry, watching Harry try to say something but then purse his mouth and keep his eyes on Liam as well. Hold Liam’s gaze before looking down, as if shying away. He wouldn’t mind just staring until he couldn’t anymore—then he’d find other ways.

He thinks Harry’s going to break the silence, but he doesn’t, instead he loops a finger in Liam’s belt and tugs him in—to kiss him.

###

The call comes a week later, it’s at least one good thing that happens.

Because living with Harry might be the best thing to happen after spending such a long time apart, because they actually do catch up. On a lot of things. On rediscovering how to touch the other, without even meaning for it to lead anywhere, just that easy lazy motion that shows they’re comfortable together.

But there’s this other thing that comes with it that hits Liam at times. He’s living with Harry. He’s never properly lived with Harry. It was always Harry coming to Liam’s place, hanging around, sleeping, staying in, for a few days or a few weeks then leaving. There was this sense of not always being around each other because Liam was sure Harry would leave.

Which is not the case here, because Harry’s still not allowed out. Because the thing that was supposed to die—their supposed scandal that was supposed to have died ages ago, is still raging. Even if this time, it’s a bit of Liam’s fault really. Because somehow, those people gets wind of Liam being accepted in Manchester United before he does.

Before the phone call comes.

It’s a yes, he’s in and then it’s an uproar outside, with flashes and it’s not just the entertainment media out there, there’s also the sports media. Liam has to go out this one day to go sign the contract and he has to hide in a car with black windows, something he’s never had to do before, to actually get to another location. Well—Harry’s the one who insisted Liam stopped not being careful and managed to make him agree with a few treats that still remain on Liam’s skin. Some of them burning under the collar of his shirt.

Liam wants to say he’s not even sure why they said yes. Actually, he does say it out loud at one point to which Harry silenced him with a kiss, and a soft reprimanding to stop thinking he’s worth less than he is because they took him obviously because he’s worth it. He’s the best and he should know it.

Liam wouldn’t say he’s the best they could afford. But he’ll let Harry convince him that he’s worth all of this anytime. Even if he could have done without the other side of it, the popularity that immediately came with him being not the first athlete to come out of the closet—but one of the few who don’t have their career ruined over it.

Because as it is, soon as he’s back from signing and being exalted about actually reaching one of his goals, the most important of them all. After getting in touch with Niall and laughing as he screamed in Liam’s ear for a long minute before talking and after knowing he would be playing with Louis in the same team.

He gets back home to Harry sitting on the couch, holding the phone against his chin, thinking. Liam knows that expression, it’s the one Harry has on when he’s trying to decide if he will be able to convince Liam to do something. Like the first time they went out, the first time they played hide and seek with the public eye by disguising themselves, so they could have a proper date outside and not just inside.

The thing is, Liam also knows that it doesn’t matter what Harry’s going to try to convince him to do. He’s certain that he’s not going to be able to say no.

So when Harry turns to look at him, head tilted and his face relaxing in a smile before he’s shuffling away and letting Liam falls next to him, he knows this isn’t going to be an exception. Even if the moment Harry starts talking, he so wishes it could be. All he can do though, is groan and slumps against the coach, cover his face with his hands and almost hear Harry chewing on his bottom lip, worryingly so, waiting for the yes he wants.

An interview, with the both of them, is what Liam finds himself agreeing to.

###

 **Q** : _How did you meet_?

Liam's been squirming on spot since they sat on the couch, it's a couch and the set looks like they at least tried to make them comfortable. Harry's pressed to his side and the first question have them looking at each other. At least Liam steals a glance and looks away before Harry does the same, so he shouldn't feel Harry's gaze but really how can he not? There's a small smile curving his lips and his thumb is already slipping past his mouth, stuck between his teeth before he can stop himself.

"In a club." Harry answers and Liam's shaking his head because the answer that's meant to come out of his mouth is definitely not the same.

"Not true, not a club, a pub." It also effectively has him moving his thumb out of his mouth to face Harry's frown with his own sceptical arch of an eyebrow.

"It was a club, I don't do pubs." is Harry's retort to that which really, Liam should have expected they wouldn't get along on the first question. Because to this day Harry still insisted that this was where it all started when Liam remembers clearly that he was sitting at a bar counter and it was less loud than a club definitely so.

"A pub Harry, there was barely any noise at all except for some lame music and some open mics but that's it."

A scoff is Harry's answer to that leaning in without even maybe realising it and Liam's turning to face him too because this is a discussion to be had. Seriously, his focus is on Harry's indignant expression with a small smug grin on his face because he's going to win this. There's no way that Harry has it right.

"We danced, have you ever danced in a pub?"

Well, Liam's startled by that, now he's the one frowning and he does not appreciate the smugness switching side to join Harry's features. Something about wanting to punch it away or kiss it away and before he can do either there's someone clearing their throat and right. Liam forgot, this is not home, the couch is comfortable and all and Harry is still Harry but there are actually cameras recording all of that.

The sound of the clearing of the throat turns into a sheepish laugh and the woman sitting in front of them is wearing an expression that says she's clearly enjoying this more than she should be. There's nothing funny about this, but then it's sort of embarrassing so that Liam does not try to hide the pink that rises to his cheeks. It's Harry's fault, and it's a good thing that he at least has the decency to look taken aback at the little argument too.

An argument that should not even exist. Liam is right, Harry's not.

"So I suppose this is something you don't regularly agree on?" The interviewer asks and Liam lets out a sigh, can feel Harry rolling his eyes without actually even glancing at him.

"He just doesn't like not being right." Harry answers and it's not false, Liam does not like not being right, but Harry also loves arguing, he's not the only stubborn one here. It does result in some awful fights at times, but fights that they have a system to correct. A system that works pretty damn well, thank god for technology.

"I'm right most of the times though, that's what he doesn't like." Liam's going to get upset if he turns to look at Harry, because Harry's going to be upset from what he's just said but he says it anyways, because it's something that's been there, under everything that they are. Something they only talk about when they're angry at each other and know it's out of pride that they both have, this feeling of not wanting to be the wrong one, not wanting to give in before the other one does. He folds his arms across his chest and waits, but his foot is tapping a rhythm on the carpet of the floor, because Liam cannot not do something while waiting. This is one of the reasons why he ended up being a sport lover.

"You have quite a competitive dynamic."

She's not even close to the actual word. The term she uses is tame compared to what Liam would call what they have, it's not just competitive, it's not just challenging, or infuriating, or simply incomprehensible, it's all of that at the same time. They end up not agreeing or turning back on the event of how they met, because time is ticking by.

Liam still has this bitter taste in his mouth as he waits though, feels Harry so far despite them sitting close. It's almost ridiculously funny how the first question has managed to make them move further apart than they were when the interview started. The interviewer even looks a bit guilty, like she thinks it's her fault if that happened.

There's no tension, just this silence and this clear evidence of wanting to detach themselves. Something Liam's used to--was used to at least until it all crashed and he ended it. The reminder has him shifting, wanting some sort of comfort, but not wanting to give in just yet. It's still raw after all, they haven't talked about what happened for Liam to end things off. Fortunately the woman's voice breaks the silence and she finally moves on to another question.

They go through the usual, where Liam comes from, where Harry comes from. How Harry manages his career so young and Liam then, what Liam does and then they start to ease back. Before Liam knows it, he's slide back into Harry's space and Harry's done the same, an arm curled around Liam as if apologising. It feels like that at least, remorse for having put some space when they really did not need that at the moment. Liam knows he doesn't, he wants Harry there, constant present and it stays this way for as long as at least half of the interviews goes.

They're laughing at one of them, her asking if they're always so quick to forgive each other, mentioning that, "I really thought someone was going to sleep on the couch tonight."

Liam is quickly interjecting that, "It would have been Harry."

Getting nudged for saying so, but it's playful and he laughs, slumps further in the couch. He's more relaxed than he thought he would be. Still, even if the first question still lingers in the back of his mind and not in a bitter way, just in a they need to figure it out soon so they stop being contradictory about it. Not that it is even of a big importance, but somehow agreeing on such a small thing, Liam thinks could take them way further than they are.

Because it's a tiny detail, but it would set them on when they'd met, it is important somehow, to know at what stage he was when Harry walked in. He knows the emotional one, he doesn't know the physical one not exactly, it's still a vague image which is why Liam remembers alcohol, and that's it, nothing else was clearer.

He's thinking about that, bringing his fingers back to his mouth only to have Harry interrupt the movement and tug his hand in his when she asks the next question.

 

 **Q** : _Would you say it was love at first sight_?

Harry doesn't pause in his gesture to hold Liam's hand in his and it's a short lived silence before he answers, he does it first. He answered most of the questions first, and when he couldn't, gave a look at Liam that Liam felt and then opened his mouth to start it off. But Harry's answering and Liam's just trying to stop his heart, not letting it anticipate his words, what they will be.

"Yeah." Of course when Harry needs to talk about this, he will just choose a word and then let out a chuckle like he knows he's leaving Liam hanging with just this, despite the warm push of his palm against Liam's.

"But it's the type that you only realise later on, for me, at least." There's a particular pressure added to his palm and it makes Liam startle, his own answer at the back of his throat.

"Not really." Complete opposite, not surprising. Now all eyes are on him and he has to explain. He has to use his words and tell the cameras that are recording this, to the people watching all of this what he never really clearly told Harry. Because Harry knows bits of it, that Liam was not in a good place when they met, but he doesn't know why or how it happened, just that it happened.

He doesn't even know what happened.

"I wasn't even, I wasn't--looking, I was just coming out of," He's swallowing because he can feel everyone's gaze on him, it dries his lip, makes him dart a quick tongue to swipe at them quickly so. The words are tangled and yet they don't feel as if they're clogging his throat, just that he doesn't know how to choose the right ones to let out.

Harry's thumb is rubbing circles against his palm though, and it starts slow, pushing just a bit further in his palm and Liam's letting out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"A bad break up, telling myself that I would never be ready again for another relationship, so it wasn't love at first sight. I worked up to it. Gradually, it even took me by surprise, before I knew, there it went, already attached, can't really put a leash on them, can you?" Liam's never been good at the exteriorise your feelings with words, it makes him squirm despite the tight hold of Harry's hand on his that he returns because well, he has to hold onto something.

"Feelings?" The woman asks and he's quick to nod to her assumption, it's a true one. He's not even sure why he didn't just say it, but it wouldn't come out but then he's nodding again, going lax for a few seconds before he speaks again.

"Feelings." He's returned to biting on his nails, because it's easier than to try his hardest to avoid looking at Harry. Because this is the closest to the topic of why Liam is the way he is currently, defensive, reserved, that Harry has ever been able to witness. He doesn't like it, but at the same time feels a bit better at having been able to let out just that part. Even if he's sure Harry will have questions later.

There's just no avoiding it now, and Liam might owe him that--no Liam definitely does owe him at least that if they're trying to do this again. She tells them after a few more minutes that they're almost finished, almost done but she has one last question and Liam's ready to be done now, but he stills himself as best as he can and readies for the last one. He's not even sure how he managed to not jolt right out of the couch this whole time, but there's the warm presence of Harry and reminder that he's not alone as Harry shifts and he stops questioning why he hasn't run out of the room. Because the reason's sitting next to him.

 

 **Q** : _Do you really think this will last_?

There's silence as she asses them both, and they keep silent. Liam's frown returning and then she's adding onto it, her mouth pursing before opening around an addition of words, as if to justify the question, define it a bit more.

"You're both really young," She turns to Harry who's singled in this because he's younger than Liam, just by one year though, it's not that big of an age gape, but Liam forgets that when people look at them, they still look as if their mind could change. Like love for young people is definitely just a phase, comes and goes and he's thought about that, so it unsettles him.

"And at the beginning of your career," That one is for Liam and he lets out a snort when she fixes him with an amicable grin, "Or the peak of it." Now Harry's the one letting out a soft laugh, obviously that's more of a Harry situation.

A situation that Liam knows is what brought them here, even if he also heard right before entering that his sponsors had been in favour of him getting out there as well. Turns out that getting an out of the closet member in their team, somehow made Manchester United more popular than ever. Within the LGBT community not only in England, but all over the world. That's how this is, Liam hasn't swallowed that truth yet.

Lets himself believe that all of this is just happening here, around him with Harry and no one else, but Harry and him.

"We'll be fine," Harry's voice cuts through his worries and Liam turns to look at him, the way he's been avoiding to do with everyone's eyes on them because he's not sure he wants to share that. The way he looks at Harry with the world, but Harry's words break that and has him smiling a little when Harry looks up, as if surprised. Before returning the smile and this right here is why Liam's been avoiding eye contact because he forgets again that they're recording all of that but he quickly gets his mind onto it and looks away.

He must looks pleased, he can feel the grin on his face and fuck he must looks completely totally gone.

"Besides our careers have nothing to do with our relationship." Liam adds, shrugging a bit. Because that's how he feels. His career is part of him and Harry's is part of Harry, and they accept that, but it doesn't mean that when they're alone, it rules who they are then with each other. It's never been like that.

"We already went through one break up, but we're here, so it'll be fine." Harry adds then and Liam turns to look at him again, but this time Harry's gaze is more focused on the interviewer. Her arched eyebrows and sudden interest because this is something nobody knows, because this happened before they were in the open the way they are now.

So obviously she's curious, opening her mouth around the question, Liam seeing it coming before he hears it, "You broke up? When was that?"

"Months ago." Liam's the one who replies quickly. It's not a good memory, he's not sure why Harry brought it up, but it's really not something he's sure they should be sharing to the world when they haven't thoroughly talked about it themselves. They've been too caught up with Liam getting into Manchester, Harry in the hospital, not having any privacy because of the scandal they caused. The whole ruckus to have time to properly sit and talk, that and it'd been awhile since they were in each other's space. So that talking had not been on the table just yet.

"Half a year, or more than that," Liam can hear the frown in Harry's tone, in this weird way that he doesn't need to look to know it's there. "It was my fault really." He's continuing and Liam's all ears, not watching, not turning to look at Harry anymore--Harry said the same thing back at the hospital, it's like déjà vu. It's not something he's sure he wants to know, Harry's told him he's lied and that was it, he didn't even think of asking what really happened.

Took Harry word for it, because he trusts Harry. He's always trusted Harry, it was never about trust in Harry it was always about the incertitude he had in himself. The insecurities Liam had and still has in some aspect, they were never put on Harry, because if anything Harry gave him more confidence than anyone else. That fact alone has him zoning out a bit, only catching back on to earth when Harry's talking again but Liam's stopping him before he does.

"It wasn't just yours." He suddenly wants to defend Harry's tone, the self-depreciating edge to it settling something squeamish in his stomach.

"I am the one who made you feel like you had to break it off." Harry retorts and Liam doesn't want to do this with all the cameras all of a sudden, he wants Harry all to himself, back at home or anywhere where it will just be the two of them and yet, Harry's staring right at him when he turns around and Harry looks like he wants the world to know this as well.

This is probably why Harry's an internationally loved celebrity, it's not only because his movies seemed to be enjoyable, it's because he's always trying to be sincere with the world when he needs to. Liam's not even sure if Harry's aware of it. If he's aware that when he does wrong, he rights it immediately in the eyes of everyone, Liam's laughing a little.

It's not appropriate for the situation but he can't help it.

"Is that a story you'd like to share?" It's a good thing the interviewer interrupts them then, because Harry's smile was starting to bloom in a laugh and Harry's face was leaning closer right before she interrupted them and Harry looks back at her with surprise. Like he forgot they were still being recorded. Like he forgot he and Liam weren't alone, it makes Liam flush with contentment, pursing his mouth. There's a change in the room then, with Liam relaxing and Harry's voice carrying out the rest of the interview.

"I had a scandal with an actress, and he thought I was cheating on him--" This time when Harry stops it's because she's interrupting him, "Did you?"

"No, not at all!" There's this way Harry has of denying lies that are thrown at him, all earnest with his features pulled in a surprised expression as to how people could presume that about him. "We didn't talk for weeks because I was trying to persuade my agency to not use this as a publicity stunt."

"Are you even allowed to say these things?" Liam's suddenly joining in, turning a worried look at Harry who spares him a second, looking at him for the longest time and then shrugging.

"I'm under a new agency now."

That's new. Liam did not know of that, which truth be told was realistic since he's been out of touch with Harry for half a year, even more, he's not even sure now, because as time went by without Harry days seemed to just drag without any purpose and thus time had no real meaning but to wake up, run, practice and play.

But the only thing that shows his surprise is a frown and nothing else, so that Harry can go on, he reels in the need to ask how, why, what happened? Question when he's sure if he does it later Harry will tell him, because Liam's decided to tell Harry what he's held up inside, he's decided it, he will do it. He won't cowardly refuse to do it afterwards, he will go through it.

"Because they didn't agree, not of my sexuality, but more so that I went against their words to stop seeing you." Harry stops then and he's biting his bottom lip. Liam's staring too and he's staring intently, knows Harry knows Liam's eyes aren't on anything else or anyone else right now and then.

There's a silence and then there's the interviewer speaking again, "That sounds like it was hard to handle."

Harry just nods, humming and Liam's searching for his hand again without thinking about it, ankle at the same time reaching for contact. One that Harry leans in and gives him without an ounce of hesitation.

"It's good to see you together then." She says again and Liam's sure he's tuned her voice in a separate part of his brain one that means he doesn't much care for what she has to say now. Not when Harry's looking down at where their feet are linked and their hands and doing nothing but staring. Not talking anymore and Liam needs to be done right now.

It might be the cue the interviewer was waiting for too, Harry's silence. It's solemn and tells much more than Harry's words do and then she's clasping her hands and talking about finishing this and Harry's finally looking up. Not at Liam but up at her, the cameras behind her and at her, smiling. Reaching out with the hand Liam's not holding onto to squeeze hers when she reaches out. He and Harry are standing up with her as well, and the focus is all on her once it's over.

###

Liam's breathing the moment they're out of the room and backstage. He's not just breathing, the air he lets out is a fog against Harry's, mouth pressed to Harry's, leaning away, his head bumping against the door that's closed behind them. It's been closed for ages, that's what it feels like at least. But roughly ten minutes is the real time they've stood there for.

Laughing a little breathlessly at first. It was hard to get here without stopping in the hall to do this, press into each other's space and finally just keep it there, between themselves. Liam's teeth start tugging on his bottom lip and Harry lets out a noise at that, it makes Liam smile a little. A lopsided curl of his lips that has him ducking his eyes low to Harry's parted lips.

They're not kissing not yet, haven't kissed, not quite yet. Waiting is what makes them this breathless, what got them caught up like this, staring back and forth between their mouths to their eyes, locking gaze and then just inhaling. Liam's not even sure if they're going to kiss, but he doesn't mind much long as Harry's right here.

Face cupped in his hands and noses bumping against his from time to time. He'll never get tired of waiting for anything that comes from Harry, kisses, words, silence, anything. Liam will take it all if it comes from Harry, even the pain that comes from not being able to fit where they should. Where he wants them to, because they'll fix it.

They will.

Harry leans in first, even if Liam's not sure of it by the time they're finally kissing. Not sure if he might have tilted Harry's hand to be able to dip in or if Harry moved of his own accord. But it still feels natural, the way Harry's mouth finds his. He's waited more than ten minutes for this, yet patience still is there because Harry's patient when it comes to these things. Liam's used to it, sometimes.

Sometimes he'll let Harry have it his way, let him slot their lips where he wants them, how he wants them. Let Harry hum against his mouth and pull back after a second of lip locking, then go back in and barely brush past Liam's lips. It leaves Liam more than a little breathless and flush under the collar, a colour that matches Harry's, high on his cheeks, high on Liam's cheeks too.

He's not even sure he's breathing anymore, he's sure he's breathing Harry right in his mouth though. The moment he goes in for a kiss again and opens Liam's mouth entirely so, makes Liam inhale with Harry's open mouth a damp weight on his own, it doesn't last either. It's quick and breathlessly over and Liam's licking at his lips, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Stop that." It's straining, not only on Liam's vocal chords, but his heart, his lungs, his face and his pants, it's straining. Everything feels so small even in this huge room they gave them for privacy when they were getting ready to start the interview.

"I want to kiss you." He adds when Harry doesn't say anything and leans in this time, does it, kisses Harry quick, a peck he pulls away from with another set of words on the tip of his tongue, :"Let me kiss you," a tip that darts out to lick Harry's bottom lip when his mouth falls open around another breathless sound, "Need to kiss you."

Another keening sound and Harry's giving in, finally Liam thinks when they start kissing and it lasts not just a second, not even ten; just goes on without stopping. His fingers lose their purpose of holding onto Harry's face and touching for a better one yet. Running through Harry's impossibly growing hair. He's entirely sure that he loves the weight of them and the length that he thought ridiculous at first makes him able to let his fingers at the nape of Harry's neck and find hair still, curls that slides against his palm so that suddenly he's not even sure he wants Harry to ever cut his hair again.

Harry's hands aren't still either, they move. Liam's not even sure when they haven't been by the time they break apart, because his whole body is burning up, skin buzzing where he knows Harry's hands have touched him. Under his shirt, against his neck, the heat that has settled a permanent ownership on his face, down to his throat, to the clenching muscles of his stomach and where he's even leaning his back against the door heavily so. He feels Harry's hands everywhere, it's torture.

 Liam's eyes stay close after that, so that he feels Harry lean in more than sees him do it, feels his forehead against his shoulder. Feels him breathe against Liam's shoulder and the nudge of his face against the crook of his neck, a gesture that Liam mimics, burying his face against Harry's neck and letting out a breath right there where it's warm and smells of Harry and no cologne and Harry's skin is warm with Liam's cheek pressed to it.

Their arms find themselves around each other and they hold on. Liam holds on so tight he hears Harry let out a huff, he makes to loosen his hold but Harry returns the squeeze even tighter and Liam's not even minding it. If anything he likes how it steals his breath and makes everything hurt even more.

"Can't breathe." He lets out anyway, for the fun of it.

Harry laughs against his neck and it's even more worth it.

"I know." His mouth closes on Liam's skin, mumbling, "Me too."

###

"Are we doing this?" Liam asks, fidgeting. Because it was so much easier to think he would do this when he didn't have to, but now that there's no camera, and other eyes watching aside from Harry's. Harry who's growing impatient. Because he has that side to him too, squirming when he wants things to be out already, he wants it there and done with already and usually Liam's the one that's this way.

It probably passed right to Harry because of that. Because Liam does not remember Harry actually being this way when they first met. Harry was reckless then, in his actions more so than in the way he carried himself. He barely even squirmed on spot, as if he always was in control of his time, like he had all the time in the world. The way he kisses and wants to make Liam reach the edge, all of it is slow and deliberate.

So this is new. Liam keeps it to himself, lets his eyes fall back on his hands on top of the kitchen counter. It feels like the night he waited for Harry, the night when Harry was supposed to meet family and friends. He realises then that it wasn't a good time then, the both of them weren't ready. They loved each other but they weren't in love, Liam did not know he was at least. The question doesn't even need to be asked now though, he's sure of himself when he looks back on it, right now and back then have nothing in common.

"You're zoning out on me." Harry says, there's humour in his tone.

"Been taught by the best." Liam answers back, knowing that's exactly what's on Harry's mind. Transmitted habits.

"We're doing this Liam," Harry reaches over, leaning against the counter much like Liam is but standing instead of sitting and taking hold of Liam's, "Talk to me."

Liam's not sure he can start--at first. Then he opens his mouth, let the memories wash by him and he can't stop the moment he starts talking because he's never talked about this. Everyone suggested he talk of this with someone, a therapist, anyone who would just help but he refused because he's never been as ready as he is right now.

Which is just mildly even but he's there. he's starting and that's good, isn't it?

"I met Louis in high school, I was the new kid." He lets out a soft laugh, the images sitting right there in front of him and it's the first time Liam forgets Harry's around because these memories aren't all that bad. He talks about how Louis refused to accept him in the team when he first tried and passed and the coach took him in everyone accepted Liam so easily and how that's what Louis hated.

He said so himself later on.

 _I was here first._ Then it was just trying to fit in, but not really because it became easier to fit in when you were part of at least one sport club, so the trying part did not need to be added in. It took days, weeks, months even for Louis to actually cut Liam some slack. Let him breathe and stop throwing insults or just generally being rude when Liam was involved.

But they fell back into it, Niall helped. Niall who was friends with everyone he wanted to befriend and even those he did not want to befriend. Niall helped put Louis and Liam together as friend and then Louis helped Liam realise why up until now even though he'd had his fair share of girlfriends, none of it ever lasted. Why up to now it just never seemed to click when girls were involved. It was hard.

"Accepting that was hard." Liam blinks back to the present with Harry's hands squeezing his.

But accepting Louis wasn't. It was easy, to just sneak in at night and act as if they weren't going to end up behind the bleachers kissing. Then come back home, late for dinner, let Louis inside and have his mother invite Louis to stay for the night, call Louis' mother to tell him he'd stay and then head back to Liam's bedroom afterwards and kiss again. Discovering was the point of it, but somewhere along the way it became serious.

"I work like that don't I? I think it's going to be good, I don't need to worry about it and then I fall." Even if in this case, he did not fall for Louis the way he quite meant to. Eighteen years old with a dream in his mind, the day he realised what Louis wanted out of this, Liam's world crumbled.

_You can't have both, Li. Not everything's going to be easy, I know--but we can try._

They could have, hell, "I wanted to say that we could have, I wanted to so badly." Liam swallows around the lump in his throat, not even sure when his eyes started stinging, but they're watering. Falling for Louis was nothing like falling in love, it was falling out of whatever it was they had. It wasn't love. It was tight, but Liam wasn't ready to call it love.

He dived in head first and made promises he couldn't keep and that did not just break him. It broke Louis too. Liam understood, when the day after he told Louis he couldn't do it, couldn't come out to the world, couldn't start this career as a queer player.

"I said that, _I don't want to be known as this one queer newbie, it's never going to get me anywhere_." Said that and he's saying it now again and it disgusts him. that these words came out of his mouth and that the next day when Louis came with someone else on his arm, did not give Liam a word and just acted as if they knew nothing of each other, he was hurt by that.

Louis went to train in another country after that and, "We simply stopped."

Liam looks up, doesn't even know when Harry settled in this position. Chin atop of their held hands but his eyes have to gaze down to meet Harry's. He waits for something to fill in once his voice stops. He's never talked this much he's sure of it and he expects Harry to mention something anything. He's impressed about how good Harry stayed without saying anything or adding any comment. He's even more impressed that he's managed to get it all out.

He waits and waits, but the silence is never filled.

Harry only smiles at him and replaces his chin with his mouth against Liam's hands.

###

"Your turn." Liam relishes in the way Harry rolls his eyes and recoils. A whole three days have passed since that night where they sat and Liam had to spill. He ended up so spent that there was no way he was letting Harry add onto it. Not when Harry kissed his hands, then led them both to bed, because they needed it. Tough day it'd been then.

Liam didn't forget though, that Harry promised he'd tell him what really happened. It's nothing like the confession Liam gave out, but it's something that made broke them apart.

"It wasn't the problem, that wasn't the problem. I should have made it obvious that it's something that would never happen." Harry only resists for a second, it takes Liam by surprise when he starts talking. The telly's screen is showing the recorded interview, a version only for Liam and Harry came in today, also the reason why Liam remembered that Harry owed him some explanations.

"I was gone on you, how could I cheat?"

Liam gives a shrug, to shake away Harry's hand that is reaching for the remote, "You were pretty mean about it too."

"Because you doubted me."

"You're a brat." Liam fights a bit more to keep control of the DVD remote because he absolutely wants to replay this part. He's not even sure why they didn't think of deleting it, "We did too much on this interview."

"Do you trust me?"

Liam forgets the remote and the interview and drops the thumb he had in his mouth and turns to look at Harry. If this was a mean to distract him, then it worked just fine, but Harry looks serious and that thought is put aside immediately. Liam knows his answer is going to settle something in between them. Something even more important than the three words that always hang in between them, no longer locked but so free that it's easy to just gravitate towards each other.

Especially in his exile caused by the commotion that comes with dating superstar Harry Styles.  Liam's still not over that yet, he has jogs to do in the mornings, he has training to start soon and he's not sure he'll ever get used to it. It's a nuisance, he's not sure how Harry does it. But it's not important right now, when Harry looks at him like that Liam thinks he can hang in through any storm that's about to come their way.

He's certain of it.

"I do, I trust you."

The words are soon out of his mouth that Harry's crowding in his space, until Liam has to look up when he leans back down to press a firm kiss to his mouth. There's a smile to his lips and Harry mirrors it when he pulls back.

"It was a set up the first time," Harry starts talking, presses his mouth back onto Liam's when he finishes a sentence and it keeps going on like that until Liam knows it all. Until he's told Liam that the girl wasn't even a friend, just an actress they told him he'd be working with and so they had to get to know each other as per usual. But the paparazzi would be there in compromising situations, always. It was suspicious so Harry confronted the company and they just bluntly admitted they saw him come out of someone's building and they caught pictures of him and Liam and it was either he went with this or those would be out. All Harry thought about then was, "You weren't ready."

Liam's shaking his head and trying to talk, even though he should give up by now, because Harry's clearly enjoying cutting his words every time he tries to. He's been so easily distracted into interjecting in the story that he's all relaxed by the time it gets to the end.

It was a lie though, they had nothing but rumours.

It took him three weeks to figure everything out and settle everything and then when he came back to Liam, when he could finally come and settle and tell him what happened. "Then the rest, you know it."

"Can I talk now?" Liam lets out in a quick rush of breath before Harry has the time to cut him off, but Harry still kisses him and leans in Liam's touch. He's not even sure when he managed to slip his hands under Harry's shirt, but apparently he did and his palms sit warm there against his skin, thumb lazily moving over a nipple and making Harry breath quicken against Liam's neck.

"Yeah." It's Liam's turn to pull away and kiss Harry the way he'd been doing for a good five minutes or so, this should be forbidden. This is too much kissing and yet not enough kisses so that Liam has to steal more than just one before letting his mouth curve in a smile, forehead pressing against Harry's.

"I love you."  Harry kisses him before the last word is out, like he already knew what Liam was going to say, read it on his lips or felt it with the slide of Liam's hands against his sides where they're still plastered to his skin. The sound of the telly still goes on but really, Liam could care less about the Harry and Liam on the screen right now, because them right now, right then is what matters the most, is what should always matter and will always matter the most.

###

 


End file.
